


The Third Dornish War

by Geeky_Owl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jaime Lannister, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Elia Martell Lives, Eventual Romance, F/M, King Jon Snow, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Revenge, Rhaenys Targaryen Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 98,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geeky_Owl/pseuds/Geeky_Owl
Summary: At the height of Robert's Rebellion, Ser Jaime Lannister does the unthinkable and betrays his family.His actions send shockwaves throughout Westeros.Meanwhile, Dorne is sharpening its spears, craving vengeance, justice, fire and blood.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell
Comments: 568
Kudos: 251





	1. Elia I

It was only when they had left the city that Elia allowed herself to break down.

Since the moment Ser Jaime came to rescue her, she had managed to hold her tears at bay. She didn't cry upon seeing her little Aegon's ruined corpse, she didn't cry when Jaime killed the beast of a man, she didn't even cry when she realized Ser Jaime saved Rhaenys who was alive and well. She held strong, fleeing the city with Jaime and Rhaenys on horseback amidst the chaos, eventually arriving at a little village on the Roseroad. She held strong as the they bought a room at a little inn, even if she could barely recall the face of the innkeeper or how the inn itself looked. She held strong even as she put Rhaenys to bed. It was only when her little girl was fast asleep, sleeping off the horrors they had just witnessed that she finally broke down in tears on Ser Jaime's shoulder.

She wanted to cry for everything, for her little Aegon, for Uncle Lewin, even for Rhaegar. Rhaegar, prophecy obsessed cretin that he was. Rhaegar, who never truly loved her, but who was her closest companion all those years and her only anchor to stability. All were gone now, and all that was left was Rhaenys. She cried for all of them, she even cried for herself a little, and her suffering that night. She did not recall how long she cried, could have been minutes, could have been hours, but eventually her tears dried up and, mustering all her will, she put herself in bed alongside Rhaenys with Ser Jaime standing guard.

Sleep did not come easy to her that night. When she finally did sleep her dreams were tormented by a monstrous man in armor, raping her, then smashing Aegon, Rhaenys, Oberyn, Rhaegar and finally herself against the wall. She awoke several times, only to hug Rhaenys closer and close her eyes again to try and fall back to sleep. When dawn finally broke, after yet another nightmare, this one with the monstrous man wearing Aerys's face, she decided to stay awake. It was only now, when the living nightmare that had been the day before begun to somewhat fade that she even took a look at her surroundings.

The room was smaller then any she had ever lived in, but she didn't care. It had a bed for two persons in the middle, a chair by one side and a small wooden table on the other. The wall on her left had a door, while the one at her right had a small window. The walls were simple, made of simple brick, not that Elia gave much thought about it. What did gave her pause for thought however was the absence of Ser Jaime. The man was nowhere to be seen. 

_Have the rebel forces arrived here? No, if they did, me and Rhaenys would already be dead or captured or worse._ The thought of the armored beast filled Elia with fear and sorrow again, but also with rage. _I will see Tywin Lannister's head on a spike, if it is the last thing I do_. She would do it for vengeance and for Rhaenys, to make sure nothing ever happened to her. Aegon and Rhaegar were dead, Rhaenys was all she had left, and she would do anything in her power to see her safe and sound. _Whatever it takes_ , she promised herself.

She was interrupted from her thoughts vengeance however by the door suddenly opening. Images of the armored monstrosity bursting through the door of the nursery filled her mind at that moment and for a second she felt as if she was back in that hell as her head started spinning. However, much to her relief, she looked around and snapped out of it, seeing it was just Ser Jaime entering the room. Much to her surprise he wasn't wearing his usual, opulent even for a Lannister, golden armor, but rather a much simpler plate mail, that when he moved created a metal clinking that brought back painful memories of the night before.

Straining to put that particular image out of her mind, she focused on Ser Jaime and noticed that not only did he not wear the usual white clack, but that he was carrying a pretty big bundle of clothes in his arms. Noticing her stare, the young Lannister opened into a small sad smile before starting to talk.

"Good morning princess, it's good that you are awake. Is the little princess still asleep? Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning to you too, Ser Jaime. Rhaenys is still sleeping sound, while I slept as well as possible given the circumstances." she said, leading to an awkward silence appearing, both no doubt thinking of the horrifying events of the previous night.

"Anyways, I see you're no longer wearing your usual armor." she said, trying to bring the conversation back to safer terrain.

"Yes, I traded it in, with my golden sword, for this," he said, showing his new simpler plate mail armor "a new sword," he pointed to a worn but still functionally looking sword now sstaying on his hip "and some money. Speaking of which, I bought some new clothes, simple but decently sturdy, as silk is bound to stand out, not to mention your dress is barely holding together as it is." _Gods be good, is there no way to avoid it_ , she thought as images of Aegon's head and her rape came trickling back in. With even more effort then the last time she managed to focus on the present.

"Good thinking, Ser Jaime." she finally said, trying as hard as possible not to sound pained "Will you leave me the room for a while so I might change?" she asked.

The knight curtly nodded, thought the look of sadness on his face told her she wasn't the only one with obtrusive thoughts and memories. After changing her clothes into the ones Ser Jaime bought, a simple and decently comfy and pleasant wool dress, and then bundling her previous clothes and making a note to burn them as soon as possible, she checked that Rhaenys was still fast asleep before exiting the room to go and break her fast alongside Ser Jaime. Descending into the large Hall, she discovered it to be filled with people, no doubt fleeing from the sack as they were. Broken men, septons and regular smallfolk, all fleeing from the slaughter, filled the Hall to the brim, allowing her and Ser Jaime to break their fast quietly and undisturbed, with nobody giving them a second look.

The food was just simple porridge, thought Elia doubted she would want to eat even the finest bounty of the Reach. The food seemed to taste like ash in her mouth. Still she persevered, thought even something as simple as breaking her fast seemed to take enormous amounts of effort. _I must be strong, for Rhaenys_ , she told herself as she put another spoonful of porridge into her mouth. Eventually, slowly, one ash tasting spoonful of porridge after the next, she was able to finish her meal, though she felt even weaker for it. _I can't be weak, I need to be strong_ , she told herself.

After they had finished they discretely made their way back to their room with an extra bowl of porridge for Rhaenys, finding her still fast asleep, no doubt tired from the previous night. Trying to suppress yet another shudder at the thought of it, Elia saw that Ser Jaime who had entered the room too was carrying the face of a man who had just been cornered and was looking a way out. Making eye contact with him she raised an eyebrow, challenging him to speak.

"Eh... Princess, there is something I need to tell you." he said with the look of a defeated man. "I, eh... oh fuck it, before I came to rescue you, I killed Aerys!" he finally managed to blurt out. A thousand questions appeared in Elia's head all at once. She couldn't say she was particularly sorry, there had been countless times when she had wished she could impale the mad man on the Iron Throne like Maegor before him. However she was beyond puzzled. Ser Jaime had risked life and limb protecting her and yet he had killed Aerys?

"Why?" she eventually asked. The young man before her looked just a little bit less anxious and cornered at her question, no doubt expecting some rebuke. However that anxiousness seemed to lead to sorrow as he finally replied.

"Wildfire. He had wildfire hidden all around the city, even under the Red Keep" he said as Elia felt her throat clenching. If Jaime saw her he paid her no mind as he continued "He said 'let Robert be King of the Ashes'. I don't think he expected to die, I think he expected to be burned with the rest of us and be reborn as a dragon. Chelsted found out, he tried to reason with Aerys, he japed, he threatened and eventually he resigned as Hand. That's why Aerys burned him. Yesterday, I was manning the defenses when a runner came through, ordering me from Aerys to bring him my father's head. He said Rossart was with him." the memory of Rossart brought back even more unpleasant memories, the smirking worm being there for all of Aerys's atrocities. "I knew what that meant. I killed him first outside the Throne Room, then I killed Aerys to make sure he doesn't give the order to anyone else. After that I came to find you and the children." he finally finished lost in thought, his voice barely a whisper.

The information threatened to overwhelm Elia. A part of her wanted to deny it all and say that Ser Jaime must have been wrong. And yet she knew full well he wasn't. Aerys was obsessed with wildfire, at one point he had to be talked out of drinking wildfire alongside Viserys and little Aegon before his advisors talked him out of it. Lost in thought she barely noticed Ser Jaime's ever more concerned face.

"If you don't want my protection anymore, I'd understand Your Grace." he said, sorrow in his voice at the thought.

"What? Of course I want your protection!" taking a breath she added "Thank you!" she said, then adding when seeing her perplexed look "For saving my life, for saving Rhaenys, for saving the city and for ending a mad tyrant. Never think what you did was shameful or dishonorable." Ser Jaime looked positively relieved at that, however, the look of relief quickly morphed back into sorrow.

"Maybe, but I failed to save Aegon." he said bitterly. Unbidden, the memories came back, threatening to overwhelm her. _No, I must stay focused_ , she told herself

"You couldn't be in two places at once Ser Jaime. You saved Rhaenys." she tried saying appealingly. From what she had seen, when Jaime burst through the room the kill the otherwise distracted monstrosity, he had already had to fight several men to save Rhaenys.

"Yes, but maybe, if I had gone to your chambers first, maybe I could have saved both."

"Maybe." she said, mustering all the strength she had "But maybe you would have saved neither. We cannot know, and it does not do well to dwell on it. We are still on the run, where are we going to go?" she asked, and she meant it. Rhaenys was alive, and she had to stay that way. That was all that mattered for now, and she would do whatever it take to insure it.

"I've given it some thought" the knight replied wearily "the Stormlands, Weterlands, and Riverlands are out of the question as of now, and the Crownlands are soon to be controlled by the rebels. That leaves only the Reach and the Roseroad for now. Whatever we do, we'll have to go till Bitterbridge, and I think once there we'd be able to better decide where to next."

Elia tried to think of some flaw in Ser Jaime's thinking, but found none and agreed with a nod. That day, after Rhaenys had woken up and had eaten, they packed whatever meager belongings they had and departed for Bitterbridge, thought not before Elia made sure to get some moon tea from the local healer.

The ride was blessedly monotonous and without incident. They rode for most of the day, with Rhaenys held by Elia who herself sat behind Jaime on the horse and slept in inns very much similar to the one they spent their first night in. And like in that one, the road and the inns were filled with people escaping the carnage, allowing them to blend in seamlessly. The food still tasted like ash, and Elia's sleep was still filled by nightmares of an armored monstrosity bashing Aegon's head in, an image that kept popping back into Elia's mind seemingly at random. However by the time they reached Bitterbridge these things had become almost natural for her, and somewhat less painful.

Another ray of sunshine in her otherwise bleak existence was Rhaenys. Elia wished she could say that Rhaenys was unaffected by everything, but that wouldn't have been true. From a loud, happy, energetic child, she had suddenly become gloomy and grumpy. She could only hope that it was due to the fatigue of being on horseback so much. However, whether or not she was affected, she at least didn't have nightmares, and didn't seem to be aware of the horrors that had transpired. Elia drew strength from that, and from the knowledge she had to protect her little sun dragon. It was with that strength that she plowed through.

Eventually the town of Bitterbridge and the it's namesake bridge bridge came into view. As had become custom by now they pulled up at a slightly worn down, but still decent inn, where after buying board, Elia and Rhaenys went to their room, while Jaime went around town to find any snippets of information he could. In the days following the Sack they found out that the capital was in complete disarray following Aerys's and Aegon's death as well as her, Rhaenys's and Jaime's disappearance. That was good she knew, the more chaos the less likely they were to be spotted. 

It was only after they entered the Reach that reports begun to change. Ned Stark was marching to relieve Storm's End, thus ending the last theater of war. Robert Baratheon had been proclaimed King and had apparently started a massive hunt for her and Rhaenys, though luckily by the time that had happened they were firmly in loyalist territory. At least loyalist for now. More worrying for their safety was Jaime. In the first days following the sack stories of who killed Aerys had been legion, each crazier then the next. Ned Stark had warged into a wolf to tear him to shreds, Robert Baratheon had killed him himself in single combat, Tywin Lannister had hired a faceless man to do the job. A few even suggested it had been her, no doubt started by the Usurper. Even fewer were actually the truth saying that it had been Ser Jaime that had done it. However as the days moved by that particular rumor became more and more prevalent, as no doubt reports and investigations from the capital were trickling in.

It had been with that knowledge in mind that Elia had convinced Ser Jaime to shave his head, as while the Reachmen were unlikely to harm her if they recognized her, they would have been perfectly capable to hang him on the spot if they recognized him. Now, the once proud golden Lannnister, looked almost unrecognizable, without his flashy golden armor, golden sword, golden hair and white cloak. The bright emerald eyes remained the only thing that distinguished him, that and his stupidly comely face.

Eventually after she and Rhaenys had settled down, Ser Jaime returned with some food, the by now usual dried meat. Not that Elia cared. All food still tasted like ash to her, dried meat was no different then any other meal. So she started slowly chewing at it, anxious knowing that the dredged crossroads were upon them.

"So, I've been through the town. Good news is there is nothing new, though the rumors about Aerys's fate are getting more and more correct. A few have even started guessing the correct motive, though no doubt that is just because of their imagination. I doubt the Guild let spill that particular secret." he said, delivering his by now usual report

"I see. So nothing unexpected or surprising?" she asked.

"No." it had been halfway on the road that Ser Jaime had abandoned 'Your Grace' and now usually referred to her without any names and titles. Rhaenys however still was the little princess. A part of Elia knew that soon she would have to be the Queen, but that was a bridge she hoped to delay in crossing.

"Very well." she said simply allowing a long pause to come before Ser Jaime finally addressed the problem at hand.

"So, Your Grace," if his tone wasn't enough to signal the importance of what he wanted to say, the royal appellative was "here we are at the crossroads. Where to now?"

Elia had given it much thought on the road. Exile was almost promising, but they would never be safe there. How long till Robert Baratheon sent another armored monstrosity after Rhaenys? No, she would fight, as long as she and Rhaenys had a homeland and they had hope, they would fight. Mustering all her will she relayed her choice to Ser Jaime.

"The Usurper and his dogs think they have won. They look upon the butchery of babes, and call for the death of little girls, thinking they are invincible, thinking the Iron Throne is theirs. Well let them. Let them sit comfortably on it, maybe cut themselves in the process, because the Iron Throne is not theirs, no matter how many babes they slaughter. The Northmen use to say that the North remembers, while the Lannisters say they always pay their debts. Well, Dorne remembers too, and they pay their debts as well. We cannot remain here, so we will go to Dorne, Ser Jaime, to Rhaenys's family, to her people, to my people, and from there we will give all of them what they deserve. Vengeance. Justice. Fire and Blood. Ser Jaime you said that when you killed the Mad King, him telling you to bring him your father's head was one of the reasons you killed him. I need to know, if faced with the choice between Rhaenys or your father who will you chose?"

The young knight looked troubled by the implication, before finally replying.

"I do not want to become a kinslayer, and will do my best to avoid it, but if the choice come between my father and Rhaenys then I will stand by my vows. And in everything else I will serve you and Rhaenys. If Dorne is your choice, then to Dorne we're going." he said solemnly.

"In that case I say we depart tomorrow at first light. With any luck we might reach the Prince's Pass in little over a fortnight." Jaime looked even more troubled at that.

"If we're going for war and going through the Prince's Pass, then what are we going to do about... you know?"

Elia knew exactly what was there. The ironically named Tower of Joy, who produced only misery. In her last conversation with Rhaegar, more then half a year ago, besides the screaming and the accusations, she had learned one crucial bit of information. The wolf girl was pregnant. How she hated Rhaegar then. A part of her wanted to hate the wolf girl and her baby too, but she couldn't and whenever she thought of the mess that had resulted her hatred came back to Rhaegar. And now that same hatred came back when considering the mess that might result. However they would need every ally, and the wolf girl by their side and her baby might provide the key to the North she knew. A part of her wanted nothing more then to pretend that the wolf girl and the three idiotic Kingsguard guarding her didn't exist. If there was anyone she hated more then Rhaegar, then it was the three Kingsguard, sitting with their thumbs up their asses while she... no she couldn't think about that now. She needed to be strong and do what's right for Rhaenys.

"There is nothing more I'd like then to kill those Kingsguard undeserving of the name," she said seeing Jaime look almost pleased with himself at that "and pretend the wolf girl and her child don't exist. But we need everything we can muster against Robert Baratheon, so we'll go there and rally those three, the wolf girl and her bastard." she said, steeling herself for the trials to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first ever story, hope you'll like it!
> 
> The fundamental premise is that Jaime rescues Elia and Rhaenys from KL, but not Aegon, fleeing with them towards Dorne.
> 
> And yeah, given that Aegon died and Gregor did his thing before Jaime put him down, I guess it's fair to say Elia has some PTSD.


	2. Jaime I

The sun was high above the deserts of Dorne as the ill named Tower of Joy came into view. In front of it stood three figures, white cloaks flowing in the wind against the red background of the Dornish Mountains. Even from the distance, Ser Jaime could recognize them, the black bat on Ser Oswell's helmet, and Ser Gerold's imposing build standing out for even Jaime to see. Leaving only Ser Arthur, the plainest looking from afar, but the most dangerous. Jaime's swallowed nervously thinking at these men. He was a great fighter, on par with Ser Barristan and only behind Ser Arthur, yet against the 3 men he wouldn't stand a chance.

What must they think of me? No doubt by now enough rumors would have reached them to know the truth. All along the road the rumors had gotten better and better in regards to who killed Aerys. By the time they reached Ashford almost every story had him kill Aerys, though the reasons for it were as wild as ever. It was good fortune that Jaime looked almost unrecognizable, with his simple plate mail armor and bald head. _But such a disguise will not fool my brothers_. Jaime wondered what they must be thinking of him. Kingslayer, Oathbreaker. He knew Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell might understand, even sympathize. Ser Arthur often hid from Aerys's insanity by following Rhaegar, while Ser Oswell hid in his black humor. Both knew what he was. Ser Gerold on the other hand, that man lived and breathed duty, he'd get only judgement from him.

 _As if I'm the worst one here_. He might have killed Aerys, but he did it for a good reason, and he did protect the royal family, unlike his remaining brothers that had kept themselves in Dorne to protect Rhaegar's mistress and her unborn bastard, leaving his trueborn son, the rightful heir to the Throne to die. Aegon's death still haunted Jaime, he couldn't help but feel guilty, he should have gone to the Holdfast faster, he should have killed Aerys earlier, he should have gone for Elia and Aegon first. But at least he fought, at least he saved Rhaenys, something that couldn't be said, of the honorable and dutiful Ser Gerold Hightower.

 _Oh, well, time to face them_ , he thought as they approached the tower, him on one horse, Elia and Rhaenys on another. As they approached the 3 figures stood out to meet them, solemn as ever. Eventually they pulled their horses not 10 feet from them and dismounted. Whatever the 3 knights were expecting, it clearly wasn't them as they looked dumbfounded. Eventually Ser Gerold was the first to speak.

"Princess, Princess" he said bowing his head at the 2 respective princesses. "Kingslayer" he added, disgust dripping from his voice as his hand went to his pommel.

 _This was dangerous_ , Jaime knew. By all reason he knew he needed to explain. However seeing the contemptuous look on their faces he decided against it. _I will be damned if I need to explain myself to this lot._

"Lord Commander Oathbreaker" he replied snidely.

"You dare call me an oathbreaker?" Ser Gerold asked with an icy rage in his voice

"Why yes" Jaime replied innocently. "I may have killed Aerys, but I fulfilled my vow, I saved the princesses. You call me an oathbreaker for slaying Aerys, but where were you when that happened? Aren't you Kingsguard too? And where were you when my father's men went to kill the Princesses, when I barely saved princess Rhaenys, when they killed Prince Aegon and they raped Princess Elia. It seems to me I kept more vows then you did." he said, long suppressed rage finally coming out. To their credit Ser Oswell looked downright shamed, while Ser Arthur looked saddened.

"That may be" he said "but we didn't kill out King, you did." he said as he drew his sword, the other two following in his footsteps.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Princess Elia's voice came through

"Princess, this man killed his King and broke his vows, we cannot allow..." the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard begun

"YOU??? You cannot allow. Well you allowed a great many things. You allowed Aerys to burn countless innocents, you allowed him to start a war, you allowed Rhaegar to abscond with a 15 year old, you allowed Lannister men to come in and kill Aegon, and you allowed Aerys to almost burn King's Landing to the ground. You are not a judge, Ser Gerold, you are sworn to obey, and for any good that vow is, you will obey me and sheathed your swords." she said rage coming out in every sound she made

The 3 Kingsguard looked puzzled at that outburst. What did they think that the Princess will do nothing? Finally Ser Oswell asked

"What do you mean, we let Aerys nearly burn the city to the ground?" he asked.

"Tell them, Ser Jaime" she said

Jaime was unsure, what to do, on one hand he detested having to justify himself to this lot, on the other hand it might defuse the conflict, and he was looking forward to see Ser Gerold puzzle the right answer to that particular conundrum.

"Aerys planted wildfire caches all through the city. He said 'let Robert be King of the Ashes'. When the sack came he tried to have Rossart light them. That's why I killed him. He wanted to burn the city down, alongside him, the Royal Family and everyone else. So tell me, what do you think I should have done?" he asked, and saw with satisfaction that even Ser Gerold looked positively pained.

After a moment Ser Oswell put his sword back in it's sheath, followed by Ser Arthur and finally Ser Gerold.

"Good, now that you've stopped acting like children, may I see the girl?" asked Princess Elia.

"Not right now, Your Grace" answered Ser Gerold "she's just gone into labor"

"Well then I'll go see her regardless, I've lived through 2 births, I can help" she said, her voice not brokering any argument, as she went into the the red brick tower, leaving Jaime alone with his brothers. The silence was so foreboding you could cut through it with a knife, Jaime thought. Eventually it was Ser Arthur who spoke.

"Why didn't anybody else try and stop Aerys?"

"Chelsted did. He found out and tried to talk Aerys out of it. He reasoned, he japed, he threatened and finally he resigned as Hand. Aerys burned him for that" Jaime had always thought the man to be a useless craven, but in that moment that useless craven showed more spine then anyone else at court, Jaime included.

His reply didn't help much in the conversation, and that dull silence settled in again. Eventually they all went to sit on whatever they could, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell sitting on a fallen tree while Jaime and Ser Arthur sat on the ground with their backs leaning on a Wall of the tower. The only things permeating the silence was Ser Gerold polishing his sword with a wetstone and the occasional pained moan from the tower, signaling the incoming birth. Eventually Jaime decided he couldn't stand it anymore.

"So, now that you decided you're not going to kill me, and given that I've already told you my story, would you mind filling me in on what exactly transpired here with Rhaegar and the wolf girl?"

"It's a long story" Ser Arthur warned, though not unkindly

"Are we in a rush?" Jaime asked

"I suppose not" he answered "Well, this whole thing begun at Harrenhal. You heard the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree I suppose?" he asked

"How could I not? Aerys was half convinced it was I and wanted my head for it" he replied bitterly, not quite understanding what it had to do with the current situation

"Aye I recall. Anyways, Aerys sent Rhaegar to find him. I accompanied Rhaegar, and eventually we did find him. Only it wasn't a him, it was Lyanna Stark"

"What?" Jaime couldn't help but wonder in shock, prompting a chuckle from Ser Arthur

"Yes, apparently she had found 3 squires beating up one of her father's bannerman, a cranogman by the name of Howland Reed. She decided to take revenge by unhorsing the knight the squires served and demanded they teach their squires honor" Jaime did recall this part, it had always been a point of confusion for everyone discussing the story

"So that's why Rhaegar crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty? A secret recognition of her performance?" _And in so doing shame his pregnant wife_

"Probably, though they did meet a couple more times before and I think he had already started falling for her. Or at least the closest thing Rhaegar could do to falling in love" he added sadly "He kept talking about a prophecy and the Song of Ice and Fire. The Lady Lyanna seemed genuinely in love however, not least because of her, ahem, alternative. They kept in contact from and when the time came for Lyanna to go South to marry Baratheon they decided to abscond."

"And you allowed them?" Jaime felt the need to ask "The daughter of a Lord Paramount and the betrothed to another? I may be the stupidest Lannister, but even I can tell it is a disastrously stupid idea."

"What were I supposed to do?"

"Anything, stop Rhaegar, send a note to Lord Stark, you could have though of something"

"Our vows include secrecy, or did you forget?" Ser Arthur asked bitingly

"So you kept your oath, and Westeros was plunged into war. Tell me, if you were there when Aerys wanted to burn down the city, would you have kept your oath then?"

His brother looked positively pained at that

"I don't know. Nothing is easy or simple anymore. I kept thinking what was right back then, as I keep thinking right now about your predicament. Nothing is easy or straight forward anymore, no matter what we did or do, we did something terribly wrong."

Jaime pondered that for a moment, and couldn't help but agree. He had joined the Kingsguard as an idealistic young man looking to serve with honor, looking to make a name for himself outside his family name, and all he got in return was serving a Mad King and a long series of impossible choices. Was it worth it to be able to fuck your sister, a snide voice that sounded remarkably like Tyrion asked. No, was the only possible answer, it was not. He loved his sister, he desired her, but he couldn't help but realize that it had brought him only misery. It was Ser Arthur that finally brought him out of his thoughts.

"Anyways, one more thing to note is that they married" he said. That at least did serve to bring his mind back to the present.

"What?" he asked, shock reverberating in his voice. "He couldn't have, he was already married."

"He was a Targaryen" Ser Arthur replied simply

"Do you even realize what that means?" he asked "If it's a girl it's not much, but if it's a boy well, then we are well and truly fucked."

"I know" Ser Arthur replied sadly.

"Do you?" asked Jaime "before we came here, princess Elia told me her plans. She intends to raise Dorne for Rhaenys, tell me do you think this is going to fuck things up, hm? We came here expecting to find a Sand, now we find it's either a Blackfyre or a Targaryen depending on who you ask. Pray to all the Gods, Old and New that it's a girl" he drew a breath before continuing "Go tell, Princess Elia, no doubt she would want to know, and I won't be the one to deliver the happy news"

"I don't think now's the best ti..."

"When do you think the best time is" Jaime cut him off "after it is born, or maybe after we raise the spears? I never though I'd say this to you, but don't act like a craven, and go tell her."

Ser Arthur looked uncertain for a bit before nodding and standing up to tell Princess Elia the good news. When he exited the tower again a couple of minutes later his checks bore the red of a man who had been thoroughly slapped. _No doubt my brothers can expect something very similar, very soon. And to think I used to worship them_ , he thought sadly.

And so the hours passed, as the screams became more and more prominent, and the 4 Kingsguard started realizing things aren't going well. Jaime's mind went to Tyrion's birth. That night none of them slept at all, standing around the tower beneath the full moon, silent as the grave, listening to the occasional screams that filled the silence of the Red Mountains. To her credit, Princess Elia stayed by the wolf girls side the whole way through. All of his brothers looked somber and despondent, even the usually cheerful Ser Oswell, while Ser Gerold looked like a marble statue. At one point during the night Jaime went to him and asked

"So, Lord Commander, have you found it in you to forgive me" he asked half jokingly, half seriously

"No" the man had answered, though without the distain his voice had carried before. "But if it's any consolation neither do I forgive myself for everything that has happened either" he said before going back into the realm of thought. Jaime left him there for the rest of the night.

Slowly the hours ticked by, as the screams intensified, and all he could do was sit there and wait. By the time the sky begun to lighten signaling the coming of the dawn a feeling of dread. Pregnancy shouldn't take this long he knew, especially not for a 16 year old girl. Eventually dawn finally broke, and the Dornish sun came into view from over the Red Mountains. Finally as the screaming intensified one of the maids came out of the tower to inform them that the baby was finally coming out, before entering the tower again. Jaime just wanted it to be over at that point. It seemed Ser Arthur had the same thought as he rose from the log he had been sitting on. However the look he had on his face wasn't one of anxiousness, but one of suspicion and concern as he looked into the horizon. Ser Gerold was the first one to notice

"What is it?" he asked

"Riders" the Dornish knight responded "I think there's seven of them"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, things are about to get interesting


	3. The Quiet Wolf

It was late in the morning, the sun already scorching the Northmen when they arrived at the Tower of Joy. Ned had first learned about the cursed place from Varys in King's Landing, the eunuch no doubt trying to curry favor. Still he could not say that the man hadn't been right, the tower was exactly where he told him it will be. They had ridden hard for it, him and his 6 companions, each on one of William Dustin's prized stallions, and even they had felt the weariness from how hard they rode. _It needed to be done, the faster I get to Lyanna the better_ , he told himself.

And yet Ned dreaded seeing his sister again, his last conversation with Benjen haunting him. He had come back to Winterfell, barely alive and heartbroken, but determined and driven. And then Benjen had told him the truth. Lyanna being the Knight of the Laughing Tree didn't surprise him, in fact he had been suspecting it. It was a foolish thing to do, but that didn't ever stop Lyanna. But what had surprised him was not only that Rhaegar Targaryen knew, but that he had kept in touch with Lyanna afterwards. Doubt had crept into his heart then, but the war had started and there was nothing he could do about it but march and fight. But now that doubt came back again, especially after the Sack.

Ned thought he knew Robert, he thought he was a good man, his faults only mistakes of youth easily remedied by marriage. He had told as much to Lyanna when she had tried speaking out against the betrothal, but now he saw the truth in his sister's words. _What kind of a man celebrates the butchery of little children and puts bounties on the heads of little girls?_ He still remembered his last argument with Robert.

"Robert, there is already a dead child, now you want to add this girl's blood on your hands."

"They are no children, only dragonspawn" Robert had replied, leaving Ned speechless

_Had Lyanna been right the whole time?_ If she did go willingly with the Prince, what was he going to do. _I will protect her, whatever it takes_ , he said to himself, and he knew in that moment that was the truth. Robert might be his best friend, but Lyanna was his sister and his blood. He would defend her. Robert was his brother by choice if not by blood, and even now Ned truly loved him, but he would do what he must to protect his family. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives" his father had always told them.

As they approached the tower he saw four figures standing in front of it. Three of them were unmistakably Kingsguard, their white cloaks flowing in the wind, with them looking like ghosts against the Red Mountains of Dorne. The forth figure didn't carry the same imposing figure, wearing only grey plate with no cloak. _Probably a man at arms_. Easing their gallop they finally arrived in front of the tower, stopping when they were no more then twenty feet away from the four men.

Ned and his men climbed off their horses, and faced off against the four men against them. Ned tired to distinguish them. One of them wore a black bat across his white helm, and Ned could only guess that it was Ser Oswell Whent. In the center sat a massive man, bigger then even Theo Wull, and on par with the GreatJon, who Ned reasoned could only be Ser Gerold. That left the third white cloak, distinguishable due to his sad purple eyes, that brought back uncomfortable memories for Ned, and his silver shining blade on his back. Ser Arthur Dayne, Ned knew, the deadliest swordsman in the realm.

On his side sat the mysterious man at arms. The man wore simple armor, and was completely bald. However Ned noticed his eyes with interest, they were a vibrant emerald green. Looking closer he saw that he looked barely of age. Suddenly Ned realized who he was. He had wanted to say something to the Kingsguard, someway to alleviate his guilt over the children by pinning it on them. Instead he turned to the green eyed man

"Kingslayer" he spat

"Stark" the Lannister replied

"I knew the Kingsguard had sunk low, kidnapping an innocent maiden, but to cavort with the likes of him" he said with disgust to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard

"It's true Ser Jaime killed his King, but for an honorable reason" Ser Arthur Dayne started

"Aerys had wildfire ready to blow up all of King's Landing, killing everyone there, yourself included" Ser Oswell continued

"And he saved the Princesses Elia and Rhaenys" Ser Gerold concluded

Ned didn't know what to say to that. Nobody had ever connected Princess Elia's and Princess Rhaenys's escape to the Kingslayer, and to Ned it felt wrong, but however much he didn't want to admit it, it did make sense. The Kingslayer was looking at him curiously, before a massive smirk appeared on his face, making him seem like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Not to mention Stark, that whatever the Usurper might think, the Lady Lyanna was not kidnapped. On the contrary she married the Prince. She's in labor as we speak"

Ned felt thunderstruck by that. _Could it be true, had he gotten it all wrong?_

"Might I see her?" he asked almost defeated

"What is your intention?" Ser Gerold asked, hand on the pommel of his sword

Ned quickly realized his intent, and knew that this could go wrong at any moment.

"I would never harm my own blood, if that is what you ask. I'll do anything it takes to protect her. Her and her child"

That seemed to be the correct answer as the Lord Commander seemed to ease at that.

"You may go, leave your weapons on the ground" he commanded

As Ned proceeded to unbuckle the belt that held his sword and to take out his knife, he was surprised as a Dornishwoman appeared from the tower. Ned could barely remember what she looked like, he had only briefly seen her at Harrenhal. And yet her looks and her posture told him that this was the Princess Elia.

"Lord Stark, your sister has just given birth, you have a nephew" she said, her tone icy "she is however in a bad state, you might want to see her"

Forgetting all else he rushed towards the tower, barely hearing the Kingslayer asking the Princess about Rhaenys and Ser Oswell following him into the Tower, he opened a few wrong doors, one of the leading to a sleeping Princess Rhaenys, before finally entering into a large room, in it Lyanna. She was standing on a large bed, amid a sea of blood and oddly enough blue petals. But she looked weak so weak, her face pale and covered with sweat. There was another person in the room, but Ned paid them no mind as he rushed by his sister's bedside, kneeling on the floor and gently cupping her hand.

His sisters responded to his touch, grey eyes opening to find his, eyes so filled with sorrow.

"Ned, is that you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper

"Yes, Lya, it's me, I'm here" he said unable to contain his tears

"Thank the Gods, Ned" she said marshalling all her remaining energy "I didn't want to die alone" she said, with even more sadness in her eyes

"You're not going to die, Lya, you're going to be alright" he said trying to assure both her and himself. He was wrong and they both knew it.

"Ned, I need you to promise me, promise me you'll keep him safe. Robert will want to kill him, promise me you'll protect him."

Ned wanted to say something, assure his sister that Robert was a good man, like he always did. He didn't. He was smarter now.

"I named his Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys Targaryen. Please Ned, promise me, promise me you'll keep him safe" she said pleading with her last strength

"I promise Lya, I promise"

"Thank you, Ned" were her last barely audible words, as she sighed a breath of relief and then she was no more.

Ned sat there for a while, unable to move or to speak, just wallowing in his pain. Lya, the reason he had went to war was dead, all that was left of her was a small infant. _I will protect him Lya, whatever it takes_ , he vowed to himself. Deciding to at least look upon his nephew, he looked around the room to find a horror and grief stricken nurse maid gently holding the boy. Holding his hands, still unable to speak he tired signaling to the woman he wanted to hold his nephew. Luckily the woman seemed to understand as he placed the infant in his arms. He held him in his arms and looked at him. The boy had black hair and when he opened his eyes he could see the solemn Stark grey eyes.

He looks every bit a Stark he realized, he might just pass off as one. _Whatever it takes, I will keep him safe he swore to himself again_. Standing up, a plan had already appeared in his mind. It would dishonor himself and his wife, but it would keep him safe, and that was all that mattered at that point.

He was brought back from his reverie by a loud cough coming from Ser Oswell, his head pointing in the direction of his nephew. Realizing that he was still on rotten ice and that he wasn't armed he quickly complied and gave his nephew back to the maid. Then the two men departed the room, exiting the tower, to find the others waiting outside of it, his six friend, the other three Kingsguard and the Princess Elia.

"My sister is dead" he said with a heavy heart as he reached the pile were his weapons were and bent over to pick them up. "She had a boy" he finished as he rose up, going to sit with his friends. From their faces no doubt the Princess and the Kingsguard had filled them in, their faces a mix of confusion and bitterness

"So, what now?" asked Theo Wull, the loud happy man for the first time looking downright despondent. The Princess Elia seemed ready to reply, but Ned cut her off

"He looks like a Stark" he said "I will claim him as my bastard, he will come to me to Winterfell and he will lack for nothing"

At that the others looked petrified, while Ser Gerold looked downright angry. However worst of all, Whent and Lannister burst into laughing at that.

"And I thought you Northmen didn't have a sense of humor" Lannister chuckled, making Ned's ire grow. The Kingslayer, laughing at him.

"And what do you propose to do, Kingslayer?" he spat out

"Fight" it was the Princess Elia who replied "Your friend has usurped the Throne, we will take it back. Now, will you stand by your blood or will you side with your whoremongering friend?"

"I will do whatever it takes for my nephew. But the war is over, and Robert is the rightful King. Take Rhaenys away, I will keep Jaehaerys as my son, so they might live safely."

"My daughter will never be safe as long as the Usurper is on the Iron Throne. I will do what I must to take him down."

"And how will you do that?" he asked losing patience "the loyalists are defeated, Mace Tyrell has bent the knee. Dragonstone will soon fall too, all you have is Dorne"

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, those, Lord Stark, are my houses words. You seem to have forgotten, Dorne was never conquered, it will not be conquered this time around either."

"House Targaryen has lost it's right to rule after Aerys and Rhaegar. Robert is the rightful King now" he said, to the hateful look the Princess and the Kingsguard threw him

"The very same Robert that partakes in the murder of children and issues bounties for their heads?" asked Ser Gerold hate filling his voice

"Yes" he said, admitting defeat at that one "and that is why we must protect him, surely better a bastard then facing Robert who might kill him"

"And tell me, what will become of him and of Rhaenys in this scenario. He'd be what, a guardsmen, a black brother, while my Rhaenys, what will become of her?" asked Princess Elia, with so much ice in her voice Ned thought he heard the voice of his father "No Lord Stark there is only one way forward, either we defeat the Usurper or we die, and there is nothing you can do about that."

"You seem to forget that you are outnumbered here right now" he said trying to sound as imposing as possible. _Whatever it takes_ , he repeated to himself, _whatever it takes to keep him safe_.

"You would bare arms against your nephews family and his claim to make him a bastard?"

"I would do whatever it takes to keep him safe. And as I said, you are outnumbered seven to four" he said putting his hand on his sword, with everyone else doing the same

"Six" came a soft voice, that Ned realized with disappointment was Howland's

"What?" he couldn't help but ask, all the appearances of strength disappearing

"The Princess is right Ned, you cannot make Lya's boy a bastard. I will not fight against you, but neither will I fight for you on this one" he said, quickly taking out his trident from his back and throwing it to the ground before proceeding to take his distance. Ned waited for anyone else to do the same. Luckily for him none did.

"Be that as it may, you are still outnumbered" he said turning back towards the Kingsguard, marshalling all the will he still had left

"Back down, Lord Stark, this is your final warning" Princess Elia said her voice commanding

"I cannot, I swore to keep him safe" he said, pulling his sword from it's sheath "and now it begins". He was immediately followed by everyone else as they too pulled out their swords, Ser Arthur pulling out two, Dawn from his back, and another normal sword from his hip.

"No" Princess Elia, replied with sadness in her voice "now it ends" as she departed for the tower to watch the upcoming fight.

The numbers were not as much on Ned's side as he would have believed coming to the Tower, but he knew they could still win. Their original plan had been for Theo Wull to take on Ser Gerold, Wiliam Dustin to take on Ser Oswell and the 5 remaining to take on Ser Arthur the by far most dangerous one there. He signaled Mark Ryswell to take on the Kingslayer, and hoped the others would get the message that everything else was as they had discussed.

"NOW!!!" he shouted as the Northmen charged upon their enemies. Theo took on Ser Gerold, William took on Ser Oswell, Mark took on the Kingslayer, and him, Martyn and Ethan took on the Sword of the morning. He expected him to be good. He was beyond that, he was superb. Fighting with two blades, whenever one of them attacked. Ser Arthur's blades were always there to greet them, while also being on the attack all the time. Soon Ned had to start defending.

_No, this isn't supposed to be happening, we're supposed to take him out and then deal with the others_. Realizing that even three to one he still had no guarantee of victory, Ned pulled back a little to observe his enemy, but however much he tried he could not notice a familiar pattern, he could barely notice the blades. Around him the sound of steel filled the air and he realized that his only hope was for the others to win. There was no change for a while as the steel sang, and Ned and his friends tried in vain to break through he almost magical defense of Ser Arthur. Then a shout was heard as Willem's sword cut the neck of Ser Oswell Whent.

Ned was elated, maybe there is hope he thought to himself. However in his distraction he was just a second too late, and Ser Arthur's sword came at him fast. He barely had time to move to his right in order to block it, colliding with Martyn's hand. This interruption created the opening needed as Dawn pierced Martyn's plate were his heart was. He quickly pulled it out and the dance rebegun, this time all the more desperate and dire. He was so focused on the steel dance with Ser Arthur and Ethan that he barely picked up on Ser Jaime killing Mark and moving on to face Willem. The attacks came ever harder on him and Ethan. Without Martyn they were now outmatched and forced to stay on the defensive, each trying to parry Ser Arthur's blows.

He distantly heard a shout as Theo managed to cut Ser Gerold on the arm, forcing the Lord Commander to fall back and almost die. He signaled Ethan to try to catch Ser Arthur between them, but when he made his move Ser Arthur attacked both of them at the same time, Dawn targeting him, while his other sword targeted Ethan. Ned managed to parley, but before he noticed, Ser Arhtur made a spin and with his other sword still in contact with Ehtan's, brought Dawn in an ark across Ethan's chest, making him crumple to the ground.

At the same time, with the corner of his eye he saw Lannister kill William while Theo disarmed his opponent with another well placed hit on his hand, just in time to turn and face the Kingslayer. In the meantime Ser Arthur was now coming down on him with all he had, and all Ned could do was hold on. He had no offensives left, no ideas. All he could do was defend, hoping for an opening. Parry, dodge, parry, on it went and still no sign of an opening.

And then he saw something. Out the corner of his eye he saw Ethan was not dead and was slowly moving. Realizing he could maybe still win if he tricked the Sword of the Morning, he maneuvered to his right, forcing the Dornish knight to turn in return to face him. The attacks kept on coming and again all Ned could do was defend himself. And then everything happened too fast. In a simple elegant move, while Ser Gerold who no longer had a sword and was barely standing up, used seemingly the last of his energy to distract Theo, Ser Jaime quickly spun and drove his sword through the weak spot under the shoulder killing Theo.

In that moment, Ethan summoned the last of his strength and hurled himself at Ser Arthur's feet, causing the knight to lose balance and focus, looking in surprise at his feet as his knees buckled. In that moment he created an opening, which Ned took and he brought his sword in a lateral ark against the Sword of the Morning's head, cutting through half his face. The Sword of the Morning looked startled for a second before falling dead over Ethan, his head sliding across Ned's sword.

He then heard an enraged yell as the Kingslayer charged at him and engaged him. He realized then that he had underestimated the Young Lannister. He was fast, almost as fast as the sword of the morning, though fortunately he only carried one sword. Still taken by surprise all Ned could do was defend, and block, trying to find an opening. Before he could find one however, the Kingslayer attacked with all his strength, forcing him to dodge to avoid the hit, only to discover the Kingslayer using the occasion to run away from him.

_What is he doing_ , he asked himself, before he saw him running towards Ethan who was barely alive and in an instant he struck his sword into Ethan's head. Ned immediately charged him, filled with rage as the dance of steel begun anew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ser Gerold sitting on the ground, holding his wounds. It was now just him and the Kingslayer.

The Kingslayer attacked with everything he had. Ned barely managed to parry as the Kingslayer attacked his left then his right then his left again. And then he saw it. Whenever he moved from an attack from the left to the right the Kingslayer gave him an opening. He attacked the right again, then the left and then as he moved for another attack Ned made his move. Only instead of hitting the Kingslayer he hit open air as the Kingslayer dodged even as he begun his ark. Ned's sword bit open air, it's force propelling it too much, giving the Kignslayer an opening, which he took, striking his sword upwards, biting Ned's chainmail in the belly.

He weirdly didn't feel any pain, just numbness as he fell to his knees, his sword falling through his fingers. Time seemed to freeze, and all he could think about was that he had failed Lya, and he had failed Robert. He barely heard the Kingsalyer tell him "Send Aerys my regards" before the cold steel entered his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F


	4. Jaime II

The funeral was a somber affair. It was night by the time they were able to lay the bodies to rest, with only him and the small cranogman digging the graves with their swords and hands. They did it in silence, while in the tower Princess Elia and the two maids were busy trying to stop Ser Gerold's bleeding. Slowly but surely they dug the graves, nine in total, six for the Northmen, two for Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell and one for the wolf girl. A spiteful part of him didn't want to dig any graves for the Stark and the Glover, if he was being honest with himself.

Ned Stark's stupidity had cost them all those lives, while the Glover had been responsible for the death of Ser Arthur. Part of him wanted to admire the man's courage, even on the brink of death he still fought, but the bigger part of him wanted to rage that the greatest swordsman Westeros had ever seen had gone out in such a way, tackled from behind and killed in the process. The rage had diminished since he had madly killed the Glover and then Stark, but it was still there. He had expected Ser Gerold or Princess Elia to berate him for killing the unarmed injured man, but none did. Instead they left him at it, all of them consumed by sorrow.

Slowly the graves were finished, the bodies laid to rest and then the ground put back over them. As a gesture of courtesy they agreed to mark all the graves with planks of wood carrying the names of the dead. So as twilight came the seven survivors sat in front of the graves, sitting in silent prayer. The two nursemaids were holding Princess Rhanys and the newborn Targaryen, Elia and Jaime sat next to each other, flanked by a now somewhat capable to stand Ser Gerold on Elia's side and the small cranogman on the other. Most of his companions spoke a silent prayer, but Jaime couldn't think of anything to say, the only thing that came through his head was cursing Ned Stark for his stupidity. On one side he could figure out how he had come up with his hare brained scheme, wanting to protect both the boy and his whoremonger friend, but it didn't take a genius to figure out the many problems in it, especially with Rhaenys still alive.

The boy was another problem for Jaime. He could still remember Rhaegar's words, the ones that compelled him to save Elia and Rhaenys "Keep my family safe, Ser Jaime". Idiot he might have been, but those words haunted him. Was the boy not Rhaegar's family? What was he going to do? When it was just Rhaenys and Elia, things had been simple, now he realized it was going to be much more difficult. So, when the silent ceremony was finally concluded he signaled to Princess Elia and the cranogman that they needed to talk. He knew he shouldn't trust the cranogman, but the man had stood by and let his friends die out of loyalty for the boy and his mother, someone like that could be trusted he knew, at least when it came to the boy. He remembered Ser Arthur's story the day before about the Tourney at Harrenhal and realized that this was probably the cranogman Lyanna Stark had saved and started this whole mess for.

Silently the three walked to a fallen dried up tree, sitting on the fallen trunk. Jaime was the first to talk

"So, what are we going to do about all of this?" he asked the Princess and the cranogman

"Why is he here?" Princess Elia asked, genuine confusion on her face

"Given what had happened I though we might benefit from his opinion" Ser Jaime replied simply

"And Ser Gerold?"

"Ser Gerold is badly injured, it will take him time to recover, not to mention that you know him, whatever we decide he will obey."

The Princess nodded at that, leaving a silence nobody was willingly to fill. Eventually it was the cranogman that spoke

"Well, whatever value Ned's plan had, with him dead there's no way to keep the secret. Everyone will eventually know he's Lyanna's." he said thoughtfully "So now it's either a fight to the death or you need to flee the continent."

"I will not flee" Princess Elia said "I hate needing to put Rhaenys on the blasted Throne, but it's the only way she will ever be safe"

"So, the wheel of war keeps on spinning." the cranogman replied with sadness "who will you fight for?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jaime

"You mean to take Robert off the Throne. Fine by me, I never liked the man and he will make an abysmal King, he'll probably bankrupt the country on whores, wine and tourneys" the small man replied with wisdom in his voice "Yet who will you place in his stead?"

Jaime though for a while, thinking the answer must be obvious, until he realized it wasn't.

"If Jaehaerys had been born without the troublesome not entirely valid marriage he would have been the uncontested heir" Jaime answered thoughtfully "If he was a bastard, then the claim would be somewhat split between Viserys and Rhaenys, especially given that Elia is Dornish and Dornish law is allowed to exist independently to that of the Throne. As is however with him being in a weird space between trueborn and baseborn I have no idea, it's three claims and it's hard to say which is better then the others." he finished thoughtfully

Eventually it was Princess Elia who spoke what was clearly coming into all their minds. Her face bore a look of frustration, but she spoke with conviction

"So we need to unite the claims" she stated simply "Viserys is too much like his father, and being the son of Rhaegar, Jaehaerys will always have a strong claim. It's funny, Rhaegar wanted to abolish the Targaryen customs of incest, it seems we have no choice but to carry it on."

"So, King Jaehaerys and Queen Rhaenys" the cranogman said

"What are we going to do about Rhaegar's marriage?" asked Jaime "If we crown the boy, then he needs to be a Targaryen, not a Sand and not a Blackfyre."

"We go with the Doctrine of Exceptionalism thing and pray to the Gods it works. Though honestly at this point I don't think it matters anymore. People will either support us or they won't. The exact circumstances of his birth will matter little in that regard" answered Elia firmly

"My, your Grace, you're sounding like a Queen Regent already" he said trying to bring some much needed humor in the situation. The princess gave him a small, sad smile at that, and Jaime realized just how rare it was to see her smile. Such a shame, her face truly lights up when she smiles

"Thank you Ser Jaime, I hope you don't mind. If we win we'll need to seriously plan a regency, but until then I think I can take on that role" she said, with a bit more lightness in her voice after the previous days tragedy

"So, where to now?" asked the cranogman

"I think you, my Lord, should go North and use the information to rally the North and whatever else you can find. I think I have an idea, thought we'll talk more about it in the morning" she said, subtly dismissing the small man. He seemed to take the hint and after a short bow he departed towards the tower to find some place to sleep, leaving only Jaime and Princess Elia

"So where are we off to? I presume Sunspear." he asked quietly

"Yes the two of us, Rhenys and Jaehaerys will go there, and plan our next move from there. Thought I think we should first go to Starfall to return Dawn, get some provisions and allow Ser Gerold to be treated by a maester."

"And Ser Gerold?" asked Jaime

"I think he should go to the Reach once he's well enough to travel."

"Mace Tyrell's bent the knee, I don't think he'd be in a hurry to help us fight what will be a drawn out bloody affair in Dorne"

"I agree, but the Tyrells aren't the only house in the Reach. Ser Gerold might help us get the support of his nephew, and the Dance showed just how much the support of House Hightower can matter, even against House Tyrell. And it might make the Tyrells stay neutral at least, like in the Dance."

"It really is happening, isn't it" he couldn't help but ask "Till now we were locked in the Red Keep as little more then hostages, but now we're really going to war"

"Yes we are, Ser Jaime, are you ready?"

"After today, I don't think I'll ever be ready so see something like this again"

"Neither will I, Ser Jaime, Neither will I. But we must do our best. For Rhaenys..." she hesitated before adding "and for Jaehaerys. He might not be mine, but his fate and Rhaenys will be locked, whether in victory or defeat."

"Aye, for Rhaenys and Jaeharys" he said taking his leave.

He didn't sleep that night, opting to take guard duty. He knew himself well enough to realize his sleep would be populated by nightmares of the day, he might as well give himself one more sleepless night to keep the nightmares at bay. But even awake the memories of the day kept coming back to him.

For all his bitterness at what the man had allowed, Ser Arthur had always been his idol, someone from whom he could always learn, who would always have something wise to say, who would always trash his ass on the sparring grounds. To see him die the way he did. It just felt incredibly wrong. Why, why would he die like this only for him to live? Those thoughts plagued Jaime's night, though this one passed much easier then the night before. At least there are no more screams this time around, only the silence of the dead all around him.

Unlike the previous night however it wasn't the four Kingsguard standing around the Tower waiting for the birth, now it was just Jaime. The Kingslayer, the last of the Kingsguard, he thought with a dark humor that would have made Ser Oswell proud. He thought of the meetings at the White Sword Tower, the Seven Kingsguard sitting around the White Table. Even in Aerys's darkest moments of insanity there was something fulfilling in sitting there, alongside the greatest knight in the realm, in the shadow of so many great other ones. As time had moved on, Jaime realized how much garbage the whole concept of honor and knighthood helm when considering Aerys the Mad, but even then there was something uplifting to the place and it's procedures.

He tried to think what a meeting would mean now. A barely standing injured man, a prisoner and an oathbreaker and Kingslayer. All the others were dead he knew, they were all that was left of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan badly injured and captured on the Trident, dead, sent to the Wall or having bent the knee to Robert Baratheon, Ser Gerold, old and now incapable of properly holding a sword for a long time and finally himself, the Kingsguard that had slayed his King. Not a year ago the Kingsguard was the most honorable, fierce and lethal institution in the realm. Now it was pitiful really.

But at least he wasn't serving a Mad man anymore. Whatever feelings he might have, Jaehaerys and Rhaenys were two innocent children, that if properly cared for he hoped would become monarchs he might be proud to serve. He was always listened in jealousy to Ser Barristan's stories of how proud he had been to serve Jaehaerys II, before he had been succeeded by Aerys. Maybe now Jaime would have his own Jaehaerys he would be proud to serve. Maybe he, the Kingsguard and House Targaryen could find some redemption in that. With that Jaime carried on the rest of his watch in peace.

They departed the tower as soon as dawn broke. No one wanted to stay there a moment longer then needed, too many painful memories. The cranogman departed after having a private conversation with Princess Elia, no doubt telling him what to say and to whom. The rest of them left the tower behind soon after. Luckily after Ned Stark's folly they had more then enough horses for the whole lot of them, so they rode through the Red Mountains in silence.

That night they slept in the desert. Jaime wished he could stay on guard duty this night too, but after two sleepless nights, fatigue finally caught up to him and he fell asleep as soon as he lay on the ground. That night he dreamt an oft repeated dream, Aerys in the throne Room, burning someone. Only this time he wasn't standing guard. This time he was the one being hanged over the pyre. And as he screamed and trashed, the flames licking and tickling his feet he saw the figure on the Iron Throne. Only this time it wasn't Aerys, but Ned Stark, blood coming out his neck as he looked at him with those judging grey eyes, the same grey eyes his brother shared, the same grey eyes that had filled many other of his nightmares. And as the flames rose, the Kingsguard around the Iron Throne just sat and looked as the flames rose higher and higher.

Jaime woke with a gasp, to find all of their camp still sound asleep with the exception of Princess Elia who was looking at him with an unreadable expression from the nearby makeshift bed.

"Bad dreams?" she asked, voice filled with enough sadness and melancholy Jaime wasn't sure if he wasn't talking with her husband.

"Yes" he replied simply trying to shake the horrible dream away. _It isn't real anymore, you killed him, it's over_ , he told himself. "You?" he asked simply

"The same. What are yours about?" she asked curiously

"Aerys" he replied. He could have elaborated, explained more specifics, but for anyone who had been in the Red Keep that single word was enough to explain everything. "Yours?" he knew that the Princess had nightmares, ever since they had escaped King's Landing, thought he didn't know what they were

"Mine used to be about Aerys. I long for them now. Now all I dream about is the Sack, that beast... Not a day passes in which I don't think about him, and little Aegon and me. Asleep or awake, that creature haunts me."

"I never would have guessed" he replied honestly

"Thank you, Ser Jaime" she said. A strange feeling seemed to appear in Jaime, he wanted to say or do something about it to comfort her, but he just couldn't think of anything to say or to do. It was the Princess that broke the uncomfortable silence

"Do you think it's going to get any better?" she asked

"I don't know, I hope so, but I doubt it will ever truly go away." he replied thoughtfully.

"Did killing Aerys help?" she asked

"Why do you ask?"

"Because the Sack keeps haunting me, at night and day, and I wonder, would killing if killing Tywin would make it any better?"

Jaime didn't know what to say to that. He always knew deep down that if they won after what had happened his father's life would be forfeit. And yet the simple acknowledgement of that from the Princess still unnerved him. So he decided to tacitly ignore that part and answer the question directly.

"I don't think the nightmares changed much. It did help in one way, it made me stop feeling ashamed of myself, of everything I stood my and watched, thought I don't think that applies to you in any way princess."

"And why not?" she asked with a mix of defiance and bitterness

"Well, not that much to feel guilt and shame about for you, is it?"

"Ha" she laughed a small, sad mirthless laughter "That is were you're wrong, Ser Jaime. Not a day goes by were I don't regret what has happened, when I don't feel incredible guilt for what happened. Every day I think of Aegon's little body. It should have been me instead of him. What kind of mother am I, to survive such a thing while my son is dead. I should have done something, I should have tried to flee the city beforehand, I should have sacrificed myself, I should have done something. But all I did, was nothing, just waited for that monster to come in and then..." and finally she seemed to no longer hold back her tears as they started rolling. 

Not knowing what else to do Jaime went to the nearby makeshift bed and hugged the Princess, letting her cry into his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he had allowed her to use him as a makeshift crying pillow so he didn't mind In fact he thought having her in his arms felt quite comfortable, sitting in silence letting her woes go away in the form of tears.

Eventually the Dornish Princess stopped sobbing, and after sitting in Jaime's hold a bit longer she gently pulled away.

"Thank you, Ser Jaime" she said with genuine gratitude in her voice

"Don't worry Your Grace, us Kingsguard are sworn to serve" he said cheekily, prompting a genuine laughter form the Princess

"Thank you, regardless" she said with a happier smile

Jaime went to bed soon after and for the rest of the night he managed to sleep without the nightmares waking him up. They rose the next day at first light, riding hard until noon when they finally reached Starfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jaime and Elia sure have a lot of stuff to deal with
> 
> Also, this has been commented a lot on the previous chapter, but the fact of the matter is, Jon is the better alternative as King, at least as far as Elia is concerned. Whatever she chose, Viserys still comes before Rhaenys in the line of succession, so the only way she'll be Queen is through marriage, which given the claim quagmire is a bit of a must. So the choice is between Jon and Viserys, and Jon is the better choice, not only is he the son of Rhaegar, he also brings with him Northern support. If they didn't chose him they'd be setting up another Blackfyre rebellion basically with him having the support of the North in that potential rebellion, and who knows what else. Viserys on the other hand will at most have the support of Aerys loyalists, which are very few.


	5. Elia II

It was a clear morning as Sunspear and the Shadow City came into view, and for the first time in months Elia allowed herself to feel at ease. There were countless things still worrying her, there was still so much to do, but at long last she was home. The journey had been remarkably easy, even when considering that it was spring. They had left Starfall with a fast galley, courtesy of the Daynes, less then a fortnight past and already they were coming up on her home.

Added to the feeling of easiness was Rhaenys, who was currently running around the deck of the ship without a care in the world, by the looks of it pretending to be a dragon. All along the road Rhaenys had been unusually shy, withdrawn and sleepy, and Elia was half afraid that the previous events had scarred her little girl like they did her. Luckily it seemed her more reasoned guess, that she was just tired from the constant traveling, was right, and as soon as they had taken the ship and Rhaenys had had her first day of playing she had come back to live, equal parts terrorizing and enchanting the travelers aboard the Purple Star. 

Currently she was chasing Ashara, putting the fear in her as the monstrous Black Dread. They had arrived at Starfall only to be greeted by an almost teary Ashara who broke down when realizing her brother was dead. After dismissing an unusually solemn Ser Jaime, and finding someplace private to talk, her old friend had near spilled her heart out. Apparently she had lost the babe she had been carrying the last time they had seen each other. She finally found out who's it was. She had long since suspected it was Eddard Stark, her friend was half in love by the time they left Harrenhal, but the confirmation, especially after the man's fate still hit hard.

Once again she felt the need to curse Eddard Stark for his immense stupidity. Even after everything, he could not bring himself to fight the Usurper, even for his nephew, choosing to foolishly attack the Kingsguard and try and turn his nephew into his bastard. And now his death had also hurt her best friend. Did Ned Stark even think about her when deciding to gamble his life for his hairbrained scheme of his? Whatever Ned Stark had thought it didn't matter now though, as Ashara was left in her own words with almost nothing left to live for, her brother, her child and her lover dead. So she had asked to come and take care of Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. Elia had quickly consented to that, especially when remembering the fondness with which Ashara had always taken care of little Rhaenys and Aegon. She had always wanted to be a mother, Elia knew, so her losing her child seemed particularly cruel.

Now, seeing her fleeing from the might of Rhaenys the dragon she knew she had made the right choice as she too had seemed to come alive aboard the ship. She had also seemed to immediately fall for little Jaehaerys too. Elia still felt somewhat conflicted about the boy. She had promised herself to care for him as if he was her own, something she felt she was doing passably well for now, but she still felt a wave of bitterness at Rhaegar and a desire to find her husband's corpse and give it a punch every time she remembered how they had ended up in that situation. Still both him and the Stark girl were now dead, and she could at least take some grim consolation that Rhaegar's foretold-by-prophecy Visenya had come out a Jaehaerys.

Even more so, the boy looked nothing like his father, something else Elia took as a consolation, though she could not help but feel that if the boy had been more Targaryen then Ned Stark wouldn't have come up with his folly. The boy himself was quiet and very observant. There was a solemnity there that Elia hoped was a Stark feature not inherited from his eternally melancholic father. Right now however the abundance of Stark in the boy worried Elia as the piers of the Shadow City came closer, wondering how Doran and Oberyn would take it.

_Well, I'm going to find out soon enough_ , she thought as she could now see the pier they were mooring at. After somehow getting Rhaenys to settle down, all while Ser Jaime was looking at them with an amused smile on his face, they sat and waited for the ship to finally moor. On the pier a small company of soldiers awaited them, though there was no sign of Oberyn or Doran. _Thank the Gods, it means Oberyn didn't do anything stupid_. Eventually they would need to announce their presence, and the nobles of Dorne would need to know they were here sooner rather then later, but she would prefer to keep their enemies in the dark for as long as possible. The whole scheme with Howland would fall to ashes if someone would see them here and report to Robert. Sure, Doran often purged Sunspear and the Shadow City of spies and he managed to keep a decently tight ship, but even a tavern drunk would figure out what was going on if Overyn were to come with an honor guard to greet her.

Eventually the ship moored and their escorts, after exchanging the proper courtesies with Ashara, but not with them luckily, escorted them towards the Shadow City. The place was as seemingly abandoned as ever, though Elia knew that was only natural at this time of day, the place only truly came alive at night, which suited her fine. The less people see them, the less likely it was for the Usurper to hear of their true location from them. Eventually they arrived at Sunspear proper as they were escorted towards the tower of the Sun. At some point a guard came by to discreetly tell her that Prince Doran awaits for her in his study. She still remembered where that was, so motioning towards Ser Jaime she bid him follow her on the route, splitting off from the main group, leaving an exasperated Ashara to deal with Rhaenys who was currently trying very hard to get lost in the corridors.

Soon after they reached Doran's study, guarded as always by the ever loyal Areo.

"Princess, the Prince has been expecting you", he said warmly before turning to Ser Jaime "Ser, I would ask you to leave your weapons here"

"That's quite alright Areo, Ser Jaime is a Kingsguard"

"Still I cannot allow him to enter", he said in that booming voice of his

"Areo, let them pass", her brother's voice was then heard from inside the study. Immediately the massive man seemed to relax a bit, opening the door.

No sooner had Elia stepped through the door, not even having time to look at what was inside, that she was pulled into a bone crushing hug by what could only be Oberyn.

"Easy there, Oberyn", she said happily

"Oh, Elia", he replied still holding her tight "We thought you were dead"

"Come now brother, let me see our sister too", came the more solemn voice of their brother, though the happiness could be heard in his voice too

Reluctantly Oberyn let her go, allowing Doran to come and pull her in a gentler but still loving hug. Eventually he too let her go, before turning towards Jaime

"Ser Jaime, I have to admit I'm surprised to see you here, given the rumors", he said, his voice now that of the Prince of Dorne

"What rumors, the ones that I killed Aerys?", he asked poignantly

"Yes", her brother admitted

"They're true if that's what you're asking", he replied, a little rattled

"But how...", Oberyn asked confused

"Aerys had wildfire ready to burn the whole city down, Oberyn. Ser Jaime did what he need to do to save everybody. He then saved me and Rhaenys from his father's men and smuggled us to safety.", she replied in his stead

Doran looked thoughtful for a bit before speaking again

"In that case, Ser Jaime you have both mine and Dorne's gratitude"

"Thank you, Prince Doran", he replied politely but still wearily

"Well, shall we sit down, then? I think we have a lot to talk about"

Elia accepted the offered seat, with Doran sitting himself in front of her though neither Oberyn or Jaime sat, preferring to stand.

"First thing first, sister, what happened to Aegon?", Doran asked pointedly. Ah there's the ruthless politician I know, Elia though gloomily

"Dead, Ser Jaime didn't arrive in time for him", she said simply hoping Doran would move on. Lately her nightmares had somewhat rescinded, so had her daylight memories, and while her life seemed bearable at least now, she still tried avoiding even thinking about the Sack. She couldn't help a shudder right then as she felt that emotional wound opening up again.

"I see", he said thoughtfully "In that case do you mean to crown Rhaenys?", he asked

"Yes and no. She will be Queen of Westeros, but alongside the new King, Jaehaerys Targaryen."

"Who?", Oberyn asked confused

"The son of Rhaegar and Lyanna", she said simply, preparing for what was to come. In typical fashion Oberyn didn't disappoint

"WHAT??? You would put Rhaegar's bastard on the Throne, the child of the people who dishonored you?", he asked "Dorne would never stand for the son of that whore on the Throne"

"Oberyn, calm yourself", came the voice of her other brother. Oberyn still looked ready to kill someone at that point but he did stop speaking, instead opting to clench his fist so hard Elia thought he was probably bleeding. "Still he does have a point, Elia, the boy is a bastard, why crown him, given his parentage?"

_Oh well, time to make Oberyn really lose his shit_

"Because my idiot of a husband married the Stark girl", she said simply

Doran opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Oberyn's now uncontrollable rage

"He did WHAT!?!?!? How did he dare to that to you. I swear if he was alive..."

"But he isn't, isn't he?", Elia cut over him, not in the mood to hear Oberyn spew anymore meaningless if comforting words. "As I sad he was an idiot, but his idiocy left us in quite a pickle. He took the Stark girl as his second wife, claiming the Doctrine of Exceptionalism allows him or some such."

"Fuck", Oberyn muttered simply

"So", Elia continued "we have quite the pickle on our hands. The boy is not quite a bastard and not quite a trueborn. In this situation he will always have a claim, a very good claim, the kind of claim the Blackfyres could only dream of. Then there's Viserys, who is a problem in his own right. I hate it as much as you do, Oberyn, but I don't see any other choice, then to marry him to Rhaenys and fight in their join name."

Elia knew her younger brother was a lot of things, reckless, prone to violent fits of anger and able to hold a grudge for way too long. But he wasn't stupid. On the contrary. So he saw how his look of anger slowly turned to one of equal parts sorrow, disgust and acceptance.

"Much as it pains me to say, Elia is probably right. The boy needs to be King. He would also massively help out cause. Not only is he a boy, which might make him more agreeable to the Lords of Westeros, but his mother's identity might bring us the North. And if he is married to Rhaenys then Dorne will tolerate it. You will also need to be the Regent", Doran finally said to Elia while Oberyn still looked at a loss for words

"Of course", she replied. Sitting the Iron Throne for 16 years wasn't going to be a pleasant experience, she knew, but she also knew that it would be necessary for Rhaenys to prevent another Unwin Peake from popping up.

"How about his whore mother?", Oberyn asked, no doubt hoping to lash out on someone

"Dead, in childbirth", she replied evenly, making Oberyn slightly defuse at that

"And the Kingsguard that were with her?", asked Doran seriously

"Lord Commander Gerold is alive but wounded, the others are dead" this time it was Ser Jaime that had answered, leaving Oberyn and Doran slightly perplexed "Ned Stark arrived just as he was being born. He came up with this hairbrained idea of passing him on as his bastard and sending us off to Essos so that he might both protect him and protect Robert Baratheon. When we refused he tried threatening us. When that didn't work he attacked, thinking him and his five friends could kill the four of us. They managed to kill Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur", he replied bitterness still in his voice

"You said Ser Gerold lived. Where is he?", asked Oberyn. _Really Oberyn_ , was all Elia could think, _are you so desperate to lash out on someone?_

"I sent him towards Oldtown and Highgarden, to see if he can gather support or at least gain Reachmen neutrality", she said prompting a nod from Doran. Oberyn fretted a little bit more before finally calming down.

"So, what are we going to do now?", asked Oberyn

"I was thinking of war. We cannot go on the attack, but if we declare Jaehaerys and Rhaenys then Robert's legitimacy and support is going to drop by the day. He will either have to eventually be overthrown or attack Dorne. And we can resist. Which brings me to the matter, how many troops can we expect?"

"Dorne will stand with you on this, obviously", Doran said almost dismissively and Elia didn't know if he should punch him or hug him for that tone. She opted to do nothing. "We should have an easy time getting our people's support, however our manpower has been drained at the Trident. I estimate we can raise a little over over five and ten thousand spears and seven thousand cavalry, split evenly between horse archers and heavy knights and men at arms. Naturally we won't be able to face anyone head on, but this is Dorne, we don't need to. How much time do we have?"

"They shouldn't know we are here, though by now they probably realized that Rhaenys and I fled with Ser Jaime. Still I took some precautions with any luck they shouldn't find out for a long time, until we make a move."

"Good, that should leave us time to clear the populace out of the crucial areas and bring the Dornish nobles firmly on our side. We should be able to fight another Dornish War", Doran said thoughtfully "We won't be able to defeat them in an open field but we will be able to kill them piecemeal."

"Not necessarily...", Oberyn said thoughtfully

"What do you mean?", Elia couldn't help but ask. She knew that Oberyn was impulsive but facing Baratheon in an open field seemed borderline idiotic.

"Well I've seen enough of Essos to learn a few interesting tactics. Let's just say I have a cunning plan", he said with a smirk that promised fire and blood upon all their enemies. _Well at least he's lashing out on our enemies for now_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the pieces for war are set. I wonder what Oberyn's plan is...
> 
> Anyways, from the next chapter onwards the scope of the story should start to expand outside Dorne


	6. The Reach Knight

Highgarden looked as it always did, beautiful, flowery and above all else fake, Ser Gerold thought as he approached the castle. To most people, the Reach was a place of flowers, beauty and chivalry, but Ser Gerold knew better. The Reachemen played the game of Thrones just like everyone else, maybe even more then most regions. It had been one of the reasons Ser Gerold had joined the Kingsguard, to escape from the political mess that was the Reach, with House Hightower being one of the most politically active, even if they had somewhat settled down after the Dance. He never wanted to play the Game of Thrones, serving as a Kingsguard had seemed a noble and honorable alternative.

And it had been for a while. Serving Aegon V and Jaeharys II had given him that. People said that Aegon the Vth's attempts at dragon hatching had been born out of madness, but he knew it to have been concern for the people with a little desperation instead, and he could not help but feel pride at serving such a noble monarch. Even Aerys had given him noble and honorable service. At first. As time moved on however the man had turned insane, and his pride at being a Kingsguard had slowly turned to ash. He still could not recall when the happy and idealistic young knight, he saw so much of in Ser Jaime, had died, to be replaced by a gruff and angry old man. The last two years had been the hardest of them all. Aerys's madness coming to it's climax, Rhaegar following in his father's footsteps, and then Jaime Lannister and the Sack. He still pondered Ser Jaime's deeds at night, thinking what would he have done, what was right? Was that the normal thing for a Kingsguard to stand by as a mad man tried to kill a city full of people. He thought he didn't know the answer, but a small voice inside his head kept whispering that he did, and that Ser Jaime was right without a shadow of a doubt.

And with that small voice he felt as thought the last part of the idealistic young knight he had once been died. And so here he was, where once he had run away from the Reach and the Game of Thrones being played there, he was now playing it fully, with the fate of the realm hanging in the balance. His first task had been easy enough. Leyton was his nephew, and unlike most Hightowers seemed to be more interested in the same prophetic nonsense as Rhaegar was then in the Faith. The man had barely batted an eye at the talk of a second marriage, and it took almost no time at all to convince him to help their cause with money and influence, though the man had told him he would not raise arms against the will of his liege.

It was the best he could hope for he knew, as the money from House Hightower and the clandestine trade they agreed to start would secure Dorne for the war, not allowing a hunger like the one caused by the Dragon's Wroth to happen again. And while the man could not promise soldiers, he had promised not to raise up arms against them whatever happened. So now, having gotten the best he could from his House alone, he was in front of Highgarden, to see if he could secure the Reach for House Targaryen. He knew that unlike with his nephew this was going to be a challenge. They were still tied by blood to him, although not as strongly, and they too had been Targaryen loyalists, but he knew very well just how ambitious and calculated the Roses could be and he knew full well that their cause didn't look like the winning one right now. Still he was determined to do what was right. His honor might be just an illusion now, but he still had his duty.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he reached the outer walls of Highgarden, and one of it's gatehouses. The walls were simple and white, barely ten feet high, with crenellations but no machicolations on top. Still, Ser Gerold knew that this was the first of the many defensive levels that made Highgarden one of the most formidable castles in the realm.

"Who goes there?", a guard atop the gatehouse asked

"Ser Erold of the Tower, here on behalf of Lord Leyton Hightower to speak with Lord Tyrell", he said, hoping the raven containing his arrival and his alias had arrived. The guards exchanged some words before one of them started speaking again.

"You may go", he said as the gates opened and he saw two more guards standing behind the gates, no doubt to escort him. The two men quickly fell by his sides and started escorting him through the mazes that filled the space between the inner and outer walls.

Like the castle and it's inhabitants the maze seemed pleasant and harmless enough, but Ser Gerold knew that in case of a siege the narrow twisting paths with no protection from arrows would turn the place into a killing field. Soon the navigated through the maze and arrived at the second wall, this time twenty feet high with proper crenellations and machicolations. This time the gatehouse opened without him needing to talk, and after giving his weapons to one of the guards when instructed, he was escorted through the castle, eventually arriving at a small study, where he was left alone to wait.

 _No doubt the Tyrells want to show they are the ones in charge. Let them_. If there was one good thing he learned from serving Aerys, it was humility. And Gerold would be as humble as he needed to be to gain the support of the Tyrells. The study seemed to be mostly uninhabited, with a simple wooden study and chairs. The walls were simple, but decorated with taste. He was however pulled from his observation by the door opening to reveal a small, aging woman, though the with the beauty of her youth still showing. The Queen of Thorns, he knew

"Ser Erold of the Tower", she started drily taking a seat. "Truly what an imaginative name. I wonder who will be fooled by it? Maybe our fool, Buttercups, might not realize who you are", she said. _So, starting off with a barb already_ , he couldn't help but think to himself. He supposed he should have expected that from the Queen of Thorns

"Ah, Lady Olenna, so good to see you. It's nice knowing we won't be needing your son to act as a middleman between us", he replied. It was a good answer he reasoned, countering back, but also acknowledging the woman's power and authority, something he suspected she might desire

"Well, Ser Gerold, I see the court has finally given you some much needed wit", she said, "but enough of that, let's get down to business, shall we?", she asked more seriously, the funny old woman act gone in an instant, replaced by a steely and determined power figure. "I have to admit I'm still a bit confused from Lord Leyton's tight lipped letter. Given your past I have no doubt you're supporting a Targaryen, but which one? Viserys, or are you the one responsible for the Princess Rhaenys's disappearance?"

There was something odd about the woman's tone when discussing the Princess and her disappearance and in that moment Ser Gerold could only count his blessings that Ser Jaime had managed to get the Princesses safely to Dorne. _She would already be betrothed to a flower is she had been caught by them_ , he realized. _Damn the flowers!_ However the realization also made him wonder, how much was it wise to reveal?

However he knew that by now Ser Jaime and Princess Elia must have arrived in Sunspear for quite some time, and it would only be a matter of time until the news got out. Especially with the cranogman carrying the news North. Still he would take things slowly.

"You son has bent the knee to the Usurper, has he not?", he started asking, at least to see how the Queen of Thorns would react to that

"He has indeed, thought rest assured we Tyrells have not forgotten everything House Targaryen did for us". Both Aegon I and Aerys II, her tone seemed to imply

"And should House Targaryen return to take back what is theirs?", he asked

"It depends. As I said, we still owe a debt to the Targaryens, but we will not foolishly endanger our family against unfair odds just for that. So please tell me you have some backing", Ser Gerold caught on to what was left unspoken in the "just for that" of her words. They might endanger it for a certain incentive, was what she wasn't saying and Ser Gerold dreaded what that incentive might be.

"Dorne will back us"

"Not enough to even attack the Stormlands", she said dismissively. Ser Gerold realized what game she was playing quite soon.

"No, but enough to challenge Robert's rule. Dorne cannot be conquered, and every day it isn't conquered Robert's support will melt, especially from the Reach. I can think of several houses, Rowan, Tarly, Hightower that might join us given enough time", he said nonchalantly

"So that's your plan, to declare for Princess Rhaenys and let Robert waste himself trying to take over Dorne? Not the worst plan, but you are forgetting one thing. Viserys. He is by rights the rightful ruler now, given all precedent, and he could easily start another Dance that would fracture your support", Ser Gerold could already hear the bethrothal proposal coming at this point.

"Who said anything about declaring for Rhanys?", he asked innocently

"So Viserys. Seems appropriate, even though he is a far worse choice for King given what I've heard about him", she begun. It was finally time to drop the truth he knew

"Not Viserys either", he replied and was pleasantly surprised by the look of genuine confusion on the woman's face

"Then who exactly do you mean to crown, Rhaella?", she asked acidly almost immediately, no doubt to contain her surprise

"No, by law the crown goes to the trueborn son of Rhaegar", he said simply, trying to rile up the woman

"Yes, the only problem is he's dead", she said, as if explaining it to an idiot

"One of them is", he replied simply, watching with some satisfaction as the gears started turning inside the woman's, head until she finally seemed to understand what was it he was saying.

"Lyanna Stark", she said simply to which he nodded

"Rhaegar married her, so he's trueborn", he added

"And you're going with the whole Targaryen Doctrine of Exceptionalism thing I suppose?", she asked, thought it seemed more of a statement. _She got back to her senses instantly, didn't she?_

"Well, it might make some of the more pious mutter, but with the Hightower applying pressure on the Faith they should buckle. And he should give you the North. But you are forgetting one thing, Dorne is never going to allow a child born from Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark to rule.", she said, with the fact that the Tyrells might being left unsaid

"They will, given that it was Princess Elia that supported him", he said and barely held a chuckle as he saw the Queen of Thorns looking like she had just swallowed one of her name sakes.

"So you have your claimant with a strong enough claim, given legitimacy by the one woman who should hate him and who instead brings the support of Dorne, also giving you an nigh unconquerable power base. But you need more. The North might support you, but they are too far away and insufficient in dealing with the West, the Vale and the Stormlands. If you want to win and not just get a stalemate then you will need us", she said, finally dropping their fancy talk and pinning down exactly what their situation was, though he would never say as much to her.

"Yes, the support of the Reach would be much appreciated. And if that isn't possible, then at least the support of the Reach's vassals", he said poignantly

"Very well, the Reach will side with you in it's entirety... For a price"

"Which is?"

"My daughter in law, your great niece", she said putting as much emphasis on that part that Gerold already knew what was coming, "has just given birth to a daughter not six moons ago. She will be queen.", she stated, not asked

"Unfortunately the King is already betrothed", he answered diplomatically

"To whom?", she asked acidly

"To his half sister, the Princess Rhaenys. Their claims are competing, it's only right we marry them."

"She's a girl, no one will stand for her. Also given her mother's history she may very likely have problems birthing heirs. Margery will have no problems in birthing heirs", the woman insisted

"True, especially when she will not birth any, not for King Jaehaerys anyways", he shut that down, "Instead the Queen Regent offers you the following terms. Queen Rhaella is currently heavy with child. If it's a girl she offers her to your heir, if it's a boy then you can marry him or Viserys, after your choice, to your daughter. Furthermore, when this war is concluded, the Westerlands, Riverlands, and Stormlands will have many of it's lords deposed. The Stormlander lords will probably be replaced with Dornishmen, especially in the marches, but the Riverlands and Westerlands especially will be filled by second sons from Reachmen houses. Lord Mace's second and third sons will be offered Castamere and Silverhill respectively. Finally your son will be Hand of the King. These are more than honorable terms", he finally said, hoping that all the dancing around had maybe softened the woman enough to accept it

"No", she said putting an end to his hopes. "Margery will be queen", she stated as if it was an absolute truth

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. However these terms are the second best thing you'll have. You'd marry the royal family, and house Tyrell's influence would spread making it the second house in the realm after house Targaryen."

"And still not good enough to marry though", she said venomously

"Alas that is all we can offer"

"In that case House Tyrell will not side with you"

"I hope you don't intend to rise for the Usurper?", he asked

"No, we both know half our vassals would revolt at that, including your family. We will order our vassals not to send men, nor will we get involved, but that will be all we will do. I have no doubt some of our bannermen will be more then likely to help you with money and influence and we will not stop them", she said simply and Ser Gerold knew that that would be all. The flowers will not budge. It was not what he wanted, but it was a promise of neutrality, and knowing the Tyrells and their interests, odds were they would keep it. _It was the best I could do_ , he thought as he took the hint he was dismissed and prepared to leave back for Oldtown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope my portrayal of the Queen of Thornes is to your liking. Now we will see more of her later when House Tyrell will be forced to take a side, but that is a long way off, so until then I hope this was good enough.
> 
> Anyways, the battle lines are getting clearer and clearer. Next up is a Barristan POV and we get a glimpse at King's Landing and Howland.


	7. Barristan I

The castle of Dragonstone sat foreboding and menacing in the distance as Barristan's ship approached. Less then a fortnight ago he would not have imagined that he would be sailing to Dragonstone, and yet here he was. He had, to his everlasting shame, bent the knee to the Usurper, hoping that maybe serving him would be enough to wipe out the shame of serving Aerys in the first place. Slowly but surely he had come to grips with his decision, and accepted what he had done and who he served. Robert was a drunken whoremonger, that was true, but he wasn't mad, he wasn't cruel and he was a true warrior. His only true flaw was his visceral hatred of the house Barristan had served for so long, but with them far away he could turn a blind eye to that.

All that had turned on it's head with the arrival of the small cranogman to the capital. Barristan had been surveying the defenses of King's Landing and the damage done by the Sack when he had urgently been summoned to attend the small Council. There he had found Varys, Pycelle, Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon, and together they had listened to the testimony of one Howland Reed, the only Northmen of the seven that had gone to retrieve Lyanna Stark to have survived. And with his story Barristan's world had turned on it's head.

The first hit to the gut had been the revelation of the Kingslayer being there. The fact that a man such as him would save the Princesses when he had done nothing, filled him not only with confusion as to the motivations of the Kingslayer, but also with a deep guilt, that in terms of doing his duty he was maybe even below him. He might not have killed Aerys, but he did nothing as he was killed. And didn't he so often fantasize about him dying at Duskendale, allowing Rhaegar to be King? What made him better then the Kingslayer?

At least the Kingslayer had fulfilled a part of his vow, to protect the Royal family. In hindsight he knew he should have expected him to snap. The young man was the most affected by Aerys's cruelty, especially in regards to Queen Rhaella, and the guilt he felt for not being allowed to protect her. He had seemingly gotten his wish and he even fulfilled his vows about protecting the Royal Family, he knew. Even worse for Ser Barristan his brothers had accepted the Kingslayer with open arms, fought, bled and died with him. _Would they have done the same with me?_ He couldn't help but wonder, or _would they have killed me for a turncloak?_

And yet that had not been all that the man had said. Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur were dead and Ser Gerold badly wounded, leaving the Kingsguard a shell of it's former self, an injured man, a Kingslayer and a turncloak. In turn they had killed Eddard Stark and all of his companions except Howland Reed, captured and later let go, just as the Lady Lyanna was dying from the birthing fever. That she had been pregnant was unexpected but not really surprising when he thought about it.

Or at least not surprising for him. Robert Baratheon on the other hand seemed struck by lightning when he heard the news, before he entered into a rage that would make any other Baratheon, living or dead, envious. His new King had raged for minutes on end, smashed two different holes in the table with his fists and threw the words "draognspawn" and "rapespawn" as often as most people draw breath. Most of the councilors just sat quietly and silently around, silent as the grave, in a way that reminded Barristan eerily of Aerys's burnings. Tywin Lannister was the only one looking pleased by the end, no doubt due to the fact that her daughter would almost definitely be Queen now that Lady Lyanna was dead.

The story and the Council meeting had finally ended with the cranogman explaining that he was captured and let go to tell the tale and that the survivors were fleeing to Essos. Before dismissing them Robert had raged a bit more, put a bounty of ten thousand dragons on the heads of Princesses Elia, Rhaenys and young Jaehaerys and ordered Varys to scour the Free Cities before finally dismissing them.

And yet that had not been all. The following days had been a nightmare for Barristan, as he was torn by an ever growing guilt for bending the knee. He had been sitting alone in The White Sword Tower, brooding over everything that had happened when the small cranogman had entered, and brought even more devastating news. As it turned out the man had omitted some parts or had outright lied. The boy was actually trueborn, the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, and not only were they not going to Essos, but they were raising the spears of Dorne.

Ever since that ominous Small Council Meeting he had almost made peace with his duties, telling himself that far away in Essos they will come to no harm and he could continue to serve Robert Baratheon without breaking any vows. It had felt empty then and after the cranogman's revelation, he realized he needed to make a choice on which vow he would break. For a moment he had considered falling on his sword, but that was the coward's way out, he knew. He had put himself at that impossible crossroad and he would live to face the consequences, he decided. After that it took him embarrassingly little to decide which vow to break.

He had left the Red Keep without problems, no once stopping or asking the Lord Commander anything. From there it was easy enough to pay a fisherman to sail him to Dragonstone. They were stopped halfway there by ships of the Royal Fleet, still dutifully blockading the Gullet. Explaining his story to the ships captain had been easy enough and now his ship was fast approaching the ancient fortress that served as the last bastion of house Targaryen.

In no time at all they were docking at a pier and soon a contingent of guards, larger then that for a prisoner but not quite an honor guard, was leading him to the castle. Soon they had arrived in it and from there he was led to the chamber of the Painted Table.

As the name suggested in it's middle lay a massive table showing the whole of Westeros, from Dorne to the Wall. However were once at the end of the table stood Aegon and his sister wives, or Rhaenyra and her formidable black Council, or even just Rhaegar, melancholically brooding about prophecy, now he was greeted by a pregnant woman and two men.

The man on the left of the woman, was middle aged, well build but very simple in his appearance. Ser William Darry, the Master at arms, he knew. Next to him sat the Queen Rhaella, heavily pregnant and with her eternal look of sadness around her, but still regal and imposing with her otherworldly beauty and clear Valyrian features in her sad purple eyes and silver hair. Next to him sat a man of the same coloring, and though his look was definitely less royal, there was a grace in the way he carried himself too. Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, he knew. The three were looking at him with a mix of weariness and suspicion. _And why wouldn't they, you're a turncock twice over now_ , he told himself, the feeling of guilt coming back to him. But he needed to do this, he knew, to deliver the oh so crucial news and maybe just maybe absolve himself of some of the guilt.

"Your Grace, My lords", he said bowing as deeply as he could

"Ser Barristan", the Queen said, firmly but not unkindly, "Last we heard you were captured after the Trident. How did you arrive here?", she asked.

"After the Trident, I, to my shame bent the knee to the Usurper. It was the only choice I saw at the time.", he said. Ser William looked sad at that, Lord Velaryon looked somewhat angry, while the Queen showed no emotion other then her eternal sadness

"So what brings you here then?", asked Ser William

"I have since then realized there is a choice and come back to serve the rightful King?"

"And what brought about this... revelation?", asked the Lord of the Tides with a sneer in his voice

"News coming from Dorne", he said before proceeding to retell everything that had happened with the cranogman, the Small Council, the meeting a few days after and all he had said, from the marriage to the Princess's plans

"So, I presume you would want us to bend our knees to Rhaegar's bastard", Lord Velaryon spat venomously

"My lord, did you miss the part about Rhaegar marring Lady Lyanna?"

"He was already married", Ser William pointed out

"And we all know it would not be the first time House Targaryen does that", Queen Rhaella replies

"That may be, your grace", Velaryon said more calmly this time, "But Aerys made Viserys the heir after the Trident"

"He may have", Barristan said, "But Jaehaerys is still Rhaegar's trueborn son. And Dorne will support him"

"Will they?", asked Rhaella thoughtfully but not unkindly, "When he is the embodiment of Elia's betrayal by my foolish son?"

"They will, because Reed told me that it was Elia herself that decided he should be King. With her full support, and Rhaenys as Queen, the Dornish will follow"

The Queen seemed to ponder long and hard at that, no doubt thinking her choices over

"Your Grace, you cannot mean to bend over for the Dornish snakes", Velaryon said

"Tell me, Lord Velaryon. What is you plan? What do you intend to do here? What is the next step of your master plan? You don't have enough men to raid a pantry. The only thing you have is the Royal Fleet. So what do you mean to do?". No one seemed to reply at that no doubt it was a point of contention between them. Seizing his chance Barristan pressed on. "Besides Dorne no one will help you. So what are you going to do? Flee to Essos? Aegor Bittersteel and the Blackfyres did that, and they never returned. Or stand and fight? Sure the Royal Fleet protects you. For now. Robert Baratheon is pouring all the treasury and all his resources into building a fleet. In a few moons it will be ready and able to challenge yours. You might win against it, and it will be a terrible blow to the Usurper, but in a year or two he'd be able to build another one. And another. How long till your luck runs out, and you are left alone and surrounded, ready to be killed by Tywin Lannister and his dogs?"

"So what do you propose?", asked the Lord of Tides begrudgingly

"Fight with Dorne. You need Dorne, it's manpower and it's resources, and Dorne needs a fleet."

"That may be true", the valyrian noble replied more wearily, "But why should we bend the knee to Rhaegar's son? Aerys named Viserys as his heir after the Trident. Why shouldn't Dorne bend the knee to Viserys, he is the rightful heir, that was the King's wish", the man replied, and in that moment Barristan regret for not letting Aerys die at Duskendale came back, alongside with the familiar feeling of guilt for feeling as such

"The King was not of sane mind", the Queen said, much to Barristan's surprise, "and we both know that, Lord Velaryon. And even if he was, Jaeharys would still be the heir after every law in existence. Are we really going to start another Dance just for my husbands mad whims?", she asked, years of bitterness seemingly finally coming out. "No, we will send a raven to Dorne. If it is as Ser Barristan says, we and Viserys will bend our knees to the rightful King. In the meantime Ser Barristan can resume his service as a Kingsguard", she said in a tone that left no room for argument

"Your Grace", Lord Velaryon said stiffly with a bow, acknowledging what his Queen said. _Hard part over_ , thought Ser Barristan with some relief. _Now time to convince them of the second part_

"However, that doesn't quite solve our strategic problems", he said before the Queen could dismiss them. Velaryon looked mildly interested at that, while the Queen looked confused.

"What do you mean, Ser Barristan?", she asked

"Robert Baratheon's fleet. He's building it with every available man and dragon. At this rate he should have the first ships out in two moons and most of the fleet ready in three. We cannot send any ship away from here, not with that dagger at our throats. Further more, I need to ask, how is the morale of our men?"

"It's bad", William Darry replied making himself known to the conversation again, "Most of our sailors come from King's Landing so the Sack affected them particularly hard"

"Would the news of Jaehaerys and the support of Dorne help?"

"It would help the growing despondency in our men, yes, but not the problems concerning the Sack."

"Would the promise of revenge help with their morale?", he asked, glad to have a direct opportunity to reach the plan he had been making since he decided to abandon Robert Baratheon

"Definitely", responded Ser William, "What do you have in mind?"

"We attack King's Landing", he replied, leading to a snicker from the Lord of Tides

"You yourself said it best", he replied, "we hardly have enough men to raid a pantry. And you expect us to take King's Landing?"

"I didn't say anything about taking King's Landing. I propose we destroy the Baratheon fleet at anchor and the building docks. We attack in the night, using the element of surprise, and torch the ships and the shipyard before they can mobilize a response."

"It would solve to solve most of our problems", the Master of Ships conceded begrudgingly, "it would bring morale back and give us uncontested mastery of the Narrow Sea. _But_ , unfortunately King's Landing is quite protected from a sea attack, with watchtowers, lighthouses and ballistae ready to spot and repel any fleet. I would know, I saw to it myself". he said with a hint of bitterness by the end

"Not anymore. Some of the defending forces made a last stand in the towers by the seashore. So Tywin Lannsiter burned them all, to smoke the defenders out. There were attempts to somewhat rebuild them, but they haven't even properly started, what with all the resources being dedicated to the fleet. So there are no more watchtowers or lighthouses and the ballistae are gone too", he said noticing the ever growing sparkle in the Lord of Driftmarks eyes

"It may work in that case", the Lord of Driftmark conceded.

"But even if we do manage this, won't the Usurper be able to just build another fleet", Ser William asked worriedly

"Yes, but not nearly as fast. He emptied the treasury to mobilize every ounce of material and workforce he could to build this one. If we destroy it and the shipyards, not only will he need to first rebuild the shipyards, but he will no longer have the money to rebuild at such a pace, especially once Dorne goes to war."

"Your Grace?", asked Lord Velaryon with anticipation appearing in his voice. _I have him_ , Barristan realized

"I see no problem with this plan", the Queen replied gracefully, "you are the Master of Ships Lord Velaryon, it's your duty and responsibility"

"In that case I say we go with it. We will send a couple of disguised fishing ships to scout King's Landing better and we will rally the fleet. It should take around a fortnight for us to be ready I think. The only question is should we strike now, or wait for Dorne's signal?"

"I think we should wait for Dorne's signal, preferably ask them in that raven we are going to send", Barristan said, "besides we will not need to wait for long."

"And why is that?", asked the Queen

"Because after the news of Prince Jaehaerys arrived to the Small Council. It was decided to send Jon Arryn to Dorne to negotiate their submission, seeing as Howland Reed told them that the Prince and Princess were going to Essos and the Free Cities. When he arrives the war will in all likelihood begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was torn between showing KL as a POV or as a flashback. Eventually I decided to do it as a flashback so I could better set up future conflicts.
> 
> As a side not, I tried to get a reference as to how pregnant Rhaella was at that point and as such figure out how long it took to build that fleet, and it's really hard to get one. The natural place to go is Dany's conception, which all sources agree happened when Chelsted was burned.
> 
> Now that may be well and simple, but the problem is that there are two conflicting accounts as to when.
> 
> In ASOS, Jaime indicates this happened after the Trident and clearly states he was the last Kingsguard left in the capital at the time
> 
> In AFFC however he thinks back on that night and how Jon Darry was with him and told him the "not from him" thingy. This not only contradicts the previous information but also indicated Dany was conceived before the Trident and possibly even before Stoney Sept.
> 
> As such, to help the story along and due to there being no clear answer in the books, I've decided Rhaella is about six and half to seven months pregnant at this point.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter is a Catelyn chapter as we see the North reacting to all that happened. See you then!
> 
> Also, Jon Arryn is toast


	8. Catelyn I

Winterfell was a cold and desolate place Catelyn had found. It had didn't have the the warmth, the familiarity or even the color of Riverrun. The North was a cold and desolate place, she had always known, but hearing it from Brandon Winterfell was different, something grand and special, with it's warm walls making up for the cold of the North. And while the inside of the castle was warmer than the outside, to Catelyn it still felt cold and uninviting. The granite walls failed to even come close to grand, instead being bleak and unassuming, while the castle's scale, while impressive, still paled in compression to Catelyn's mother's castle of Harrenhal.

But if the castle felt uninviting, then the people were worse. She found the Northmen to be a rough, unsavory bunch, little better than wildlings all things considered. Her courtesies fell on the deaf ears of people who's manners were completely lacking. Catelyn hoped it was due to her being a newcomer and the people's weariness for war, but even so, she couldn't wait for her husband to arrive. She had barely spent any time with him, but he seemed courteous and respectful enough and would hopefully know how to deal with Winterfell and the North.

One thing however she knew she would never warm up to however was the Winterfell Godswood. She had seen Godswoods before, at Riverrun, Raventree and Harrenhal, she had even seen weirdwoods, the dead one at Raventree and the sad mangled one at Harrenhal, but there was something especially eerie of the one here. Unlike the sunny, pleasant garden that was the Godswood at Riverrun, or the somber dead place from Raventree, this Godswood was massive, with trees so big and so old the sun never reached the ground. And at the center of it all stood the massive weirwood, leaves as red as blood, the trunk as white as snow and in the middle of the trunk lay a red, weeping face, it's eyes seemingly probing into ones very soul. How the Northmen could worship something like that, Catelyn didn't understand, as it just gave her the chills. For everyone in Winterfell did worship the tree, there wasn't a Sept, nor was there a Septon, and until Catelyn had brought Septa Mordane with her from Riverrun, she doubted there had ever been even a Septa.

The Septa had come along at her father's warnings about how different the North was to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, urging her several times to make sure the North was better tied with the rest of the realm. That it should be best tied with the Riverlands went without saying from his part. Initially Catelyn had scoffed at his warnings, not realizing just how right he was. Now she knew the truth of what he had said, and the need to civilize this place. Bringing the Septa had been a good idea on her father's part, even though she was mostly ignored by the rest of Winterfell. She hoped her husband might allow her to even build a small sept. She had no illusions of converting anyone, but at least the presence of one might improve things.

But that was in the future, and seeing the place, right now Catelyn doubted even building the great Sept of Baelor come again would do anything. So instead she decided to make her mark for now by implicating herself in the more day to day activities or Winterfell. She had barely arrived for a few weeks, but she already took a part in the accounting and household managing of Winterfell. Back when her mother died, Catelyn had become the Lady of Riverrun, thus ensuring she had a proper first hand education in running a castle. As such accountancy was almost easy to her, something that had allowed her to, in just a few weeks, already have a decent grasp on Winterfell's finances. 

In that moment she was busy in her study, going over the taxes coming from White Harbor. The North was the poorest of the realms, something that showed in their incomes, made even worse by most able bodied men going to war. Luckily it was also spring and so she could easily expect their incomes to increase very soon, even without the soldiers returning to their homes. Another bit of good news was that Winterfell seemed to operate incredibly smoothly, way better and cheaper then Riverrun ever did. _Maybe there is something good about the Northmen's austerity_ , she mused. However she was drawn out of her financial musing by the door of her study suddenly opening and someone rushing into her study without even bordering to knock.

She looked up to see Benjen Stark, a look of both pain and rage on his face. The usually quiet, reserved and polite young man, that had helped her settle in to Winterfell, rushed towards her desk. However something in his eyes told her his rage wasn't directed at her.

"What is it?", she asked worriedly, his face making her forget about manners for a moment

The young man's figure looked positively pained at that, opening his mouth once without a sound coming out of it. After a moment he closed his mouth again, giving her a scroll from his hand. Even more puzzled she took it and begun to read it.

_To Benjen of House Stark,_

_It is my solemn duty to inform you of the death of your siblings Eddard and Lyanna of House Stark. Lord Eddard tragically died while attempting to rescue the Lady Lyanna, who then too died bearing the rape spawn of Rhargar Targaryen. By all accounts, the dragonspawn was then taken to Essos. My condolences for your terrible loss, know that I will do everything in my power to see this crime aveneged._

_Robert Baratheon, First of my Name, Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm_

Catelyn read the letter shocked. Eddard Stark was dead, her Robb, not two months old was now the Lord of Winterfell, and she was now a widow not even twenty years of age. She stood there pondering every thing it could possibly mean, until the young Stark brought her out of it.

"There was another raven, this one for you", he said giving her a sealed scroll bearing the stag of House Baratheon. Quickly opening it she saw that it was basically the exact same text, except for the ending.

_...In light of all of this, it is my solemn duty to ask you to serve as Lady Regent of the North in the name of your son, until he comes of age._

Robb was now the Lord of Winterfell and she it's regent. She'd have to rule the North for the next ten and six years, a land she didn't belong to, with a hostile people, a foreign religion and a cold home. Wordlessly she have her raven to her brother-by-law. He soon read it before putting it down. None of them said a word, deep in the thoughts.

"What do you think is going to happen to her baby?", he finally asked thoughtfully

"He or she is going to go to Essos. What does it matter, it's a bastard born of rape?", she couldn't help but ask. Her focus was on Eddard and Robb, she didn't much care about Lyanna and her baby, besides the pain they had caused. However by the look of her brother in law she quickly realized that she had made a mistake

"If you think that then you're dumber then Robert Baratheon", he replied acidly

Catelyn wanted to be shocked that the brother of Robert Baratheon's best friend might say that, but realizing she was already walking on rotten ice she decided to ignore that last part. She didn't much anyways, not with the news and all the possible implications.

"What do you mean?", she instead asked neutrally if a bit coolly

"My sister wasn't raped. She went with Rhaegar willingly."

"But Brandon...", she stammered out

"Brandon was a fool. He was my brother and I loved him, but his solution to facing a wall in his path was to run his head straight through it."

Catelyn felt the need to defend her former betrothed, and yet the words wouldn't come out, because she knew what Benjen was saying to be true.

"Then why the war?", she couldn't help but ask. _Gods, the day is already a nightmare, now I have the revelation that everything that happened in the last two years happened due to a lie_ , she thought bitterly

"For Brandon and father", he replied simply, leaving both of them with nothing else to say

"Still, there is nothing you can do about the child", she said finally

"Maybe I could find him, he's my nephew, he needs me", he said thoughtfully

"Robb, is your nephew, your trueborn nephew and the Lord of Winterfell, and he needs you too" she replied immediately "Plus the child should be safe in Essos", she said. And if he isn't it removes a bastard with a claim on Winterfell, she left unsaid. If the Blackfyre rebellions and the Seven taught her anything was that bastards were dangerous. "Also despite what Robert says, you'll probably need to be Regent, maybe alongside me."

"The raven...", her brother by law stampeded

"Name me regent, yes. However both you and I know the Northern Lords will not accept me as Regent over you, no matter what the King says", she replied diplomatically. Her being sole regent would probably make her father just as happy as when she and Lysa married, but she knew enough of the North to know who almost all of the Lord would prefer between her and her brother by law. Afterall, he was a Stark, a man and Northerner. The best she could hope for was sharing the regency.

"You against me, no", the young Stark replied after thinking it though, "but if I appear in support of you than they will. The ambitious ones will want you as regent in the hopes of exploiting and marrying you, while the rest will agree to you if it has both my and Robert Baratheon's consent."

"You don't want the regency?", she asked, a bit surprised

"No. You're right, Robb is my nephew too. When you send the raven out, I'll put my signature there too, to clarify there's no disagreement in regards to the regency, and I'll help you rule the North until things settle down. Then however, I'll go to Essos for my other niece of nephew. I have a duty for Lyanna", he finished somberly. _Well, I guess that's the best I could hope for._ If the man really felt so attached to his sister and wanted to help her bastard child, she knew there was little that she could do.

"Very well then. In that case, give everything that happened, and that emotions are running high maybe it would be better to continue this conversation at a later time. Right now we need to prepare to inform Winterfell itself of what happened. Would you please send the summons to the Great Hall, so people know we're together on this?"

"Of course", the young man said with a curt nod, before leaving her study

The next hour passed in a blaze. After ordering a few servants to prepare a proper mourning attire, she managed to find one of her old mourning dresses, the best kept one from those she had worn when Brandon had been killed over a year ago. _My betrothal is dead, and now my husband is dead_ , she mused darkly. She knew that Northmen didn't mourn, the North being far too harsh a place for it, but her father had given her the mission to bring the North into the fold, and no better way to do it then by example. Now that she was Lady of the North in more then just name, with real power, she could maybe bring about actual change and reform, however much she despised having to rule the North. But she knew her words, family, duty, honor, and all three demanded she do what needed to be done as regent. Introducing mourning wasn't much, but it was something and it was feasible, or so she hoped.

It was with those thoughts that she went for the Winterfell Great Hall, finding everyone already attending, the crowd, made up of guards, servants, stable boys, cooks and every other person serving Witnerfell, all whispering to each other no doubt wondering why they were summoned. Up on the dais, sat her brother by law and Maester Luwin, with a nursemaid carrying Robb sitting just behind.

By the general puzzled tone of the whispering she realized that neither her brother by law nor the Maester had let slip the news. _Good, it means they know who is in command from now on_. She knew enough about Cregan Stark to recall he had had major problems with his uncle in his regency, she hoped it wouldn't be the case this time around, she thought as she entered the Hall, walking solemnly but proudly. The sight of her and her mourning clothes no doubt drew the eye as the whispering became more intense and more concerned.

Finally she arrived at the dais, and instead of taking the place near the Lord's Chair as she did the previous time she had sat, this time she took the Lord's Chair itself, making the whispering grow even more intense, like a swarm of angry bees. She gave a sharp nod to the Captain of the Guards, a man by the name of Jory, and he replied by starting to knock his spear into the ground, a move copied by the rest of the guards until there was silence. Only then did she speak

"Good people of Winterfell", she begun not allowing the whispering to start again "I have summoned you here today to deliver the most grievous news.", she said letting a moment slide as she drew a breath, "My husband, you lord and his sister are dead.", she said more loudly and immediately the swarm of angry bees came back with a vengeance. With another nod to Jory, the guards started pounding their spears again until some semblance of silence war brought back

"How did they die?", a voice was heard before she could begin again. Catelyn wavered for a moment, but if she had learned anything about the Northmen was that they appreciated honesty and bluntness

"My Lord Husband died attempting to rescue the Lady Lyanna, who then too tragically died in childbirth", she said as the whispering grew even more, this time with a hint of outrage in it. It took another, even longer round of pounding before she could speak again. Using the pause she motioned to the nurse maid to bring Robb forward, taking him in her arms.

"However, for all the tragedy, now is the time to look forward. I give you your new Lord of Winterfell", she said presenting little Robb, in a way eerily similar to the presentation of him she had done not a fortnight priot. Taking the hint the first man knelt, then the second then the third and in no time at all the entire Hall knelt in front of her son. Her little Robb, now hers and hers alone.

Later that day she sent the summons for the Lords of the North to come and bend their knees to their new Lord, with Benjen helpfully adding his signature to it. The first ones to arrive where the Cerwyns, arriving the second day after the ravens where sent, slowly followed by all the Lords of the North. Most seemed to fall into the background, coming, swearing their vows, and then disappearing without making an impression. There had been a lot of not so subtle hints towards potential betrothals from all Lords with newborn daughters, most notably Lord Rickard Karstark, and all the Lords that were still unmarried or with unmarried sons of age, but even them seemed to fell into a routine eventually.

There were of course exceptions. Lady Dustin, coming in for her still absent, probably dead, husband, had questioned weather Ned was truly dead and had opted to swear her vows to House Stark, something that Catelyn begrudgingly had to accept.

Another outliner had been Roose Bolton. Her brother by law had seemed to have a profound dislike of the man, and at first glance she couldn't help but agree, the man's cold pale eyes unnerving her deeply. However the man had proved more than courteous, more than anyone else in the North really, and so she had not problems when he asked he be allowed to remain in Winterfell. The man had no daughters and he was married, so it didn't seem as if he had any ulterior reasons for staying, beyond the ones he openly expressed, that being a desire to see the North proper and be slowly brought into the fold of the other Kingdoms. Sensing she had found a useful and powerful ally, she soon begun to take him as one of her close councilor alongside Luwin and Benjen, much to her brother by law's obvious annoyance.

It was over a fortnight after the news broke, that the Lord she had most been expecting, and her next powerful potential ally, finally arrived. Unlike what she had been expecting, Lord Wyman Manderly didn't look like much. The man was middle aged with a belly that was overflowing and a second chin protruding above his neck. A jolly fool, was the best way she could describe his general attitude as the man bent the knee and swore all the by now tiresome vows.

"Rise, Lord Wyman", she told him when the man was finished reciting his vows. "It is my sincere hope that me might have a long and prosperous collaboration"

"My lady, House Manderly is here to serve", the man said with a proud solemnity that threatened to make Catelyn smile. _No, you need to be serious about this_ , she chided herself

"And we will require said service. I mean to bridge closer ties to the rest of the Kingdoms, in terms of both politics and trade, something for which White Harbor would be essential, thought hopefully White Harbor would profit from said closer ties", she said diplomatically. It seemed to take the overweight man quite a while to figure out exactly what she was asking of him, before a look of dim understanding passed his face

"Of course my lady, it would honor House Manderly to serve you in such an endeavor", he said. _Exactly what I wanted to hear_ , Catelyn almost sighed in relief. The man might be foolish but if he would serve then Catelyn had no problem with it. Wanting to use her new found alliance she decided now would be a good time for the first of her plans

"Well in that case I would have a favor to ask of you. For far too long has the worshipped of the Seven been forcefully kept in just White Harbor. If we are to bring the North back into the fold we must show we do not fear the religion of the rest of the realm. For that purpose I intend to raise a Sept here in Winterfell. I would ask for Hose Manderly's support in procuring the men materials and septon and septas for the task, for a fair price of course.". Naturally she could do that without their help, but doing it with the open support of the two strongest Northern Houses would help greatly in her plans. The man seemed to be completely surprised, obviously not expecting this, before he quickly answered

"Of course my lady, I will see to it myself", he said, his voice sounding a little bit different, though Catelyn paid it no mind. After that the man quickly took his leave not even mentioning the niece Catelyn knew he had. _At least this one has enough common sense not to ask_. As soon as the doors were closed however and only her, Maester Luwin, Benjen and Lord Bolton were left in the room, her brother by law immediately turned to her, outraged

"What do you mean, build a sept here?", he asked, voice ice cold

"What you heard, my lord", she replied acidly "I intend to bring the North in line with the rest of the realm, and that means allowing the worship of the Seven."

"Don't you realize what that could mean for the bannermen"

"I have to agree with Lord Benjen, my lady", the maester replied diplomatically "the North identity is strongly tied to the Old Gods, threatening them might look bad"

"True, but that is always the case for reform. There is nothing they can do, and with any luck some of the more open minded bannermen might build septs of their own" Roose Bolton replied

"Maybe, maybe not" she answered diplomatically to the Lord, "however we are not focing anyone to buld anything or convert, this is just a way to bridge the gap), she said before rising and saluting the men, signaling the meeting was over. "My lords", she said as she departed and thought about everything that had happened. The North was dragging it's feet, but it did appear she had support, and for all the struggle it would require Catelyn couldn't help but feel that things were finally going to improve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Benjen giving Cat the regency in the hopes of going to Essos to find and protect Jon will have no consequences what so ever. Nope, no way, no how.
> 
> Next chapter we return to Dorne with a Jaime POV.
> 
> In the meantime, keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	9. Jaime III

Sunspear quickly became a new home for Jaime in a way the Red Keep never was. After the Martell brothers had quickly acquiesced to throw their lot in with them, and the younger one had departed the same day to Essos for his insane, and yet at the same time brilliant, plan. Ever since then life at Sunspear had developed into a comfortable routine, made up of equal parts sparring, and protecting the two Princesses. It wasn't that different from the routine from back when he lived in the Red Keep, if he thought about it, but now there was one massive difference. Aerys.

Looking back at it he could see just how much of a poison Aerys, seeping into every nook and cranny and every second inside the Red Keep. The burnings, the paranoia, the mood swings, all contributed to make the Red Keep the closest thing to the seven hells on Earth, making you always walk on egg shells. Now in Sunspear he was finally enjoying serving as a Kingsguard. Rhaenys was as always a joy to guard, even though she was beginning to make his back sore from how often she wanted to fly like a dragon. It truly warmed his heart that at least someone had managed to live through the horrors somewhat unscathed. There was a slight melancholy now in the girl however, one no doubt made by the absence of her father and brother. However she seemed to make up for it by doting on her new brother.

Jaehaerys Targaryen had ever since birth been a potential cause for countless problems, especially with Elia and Rhaenys. Elia had vouched to take care of the boy, but Jaime wasn't a fool. No mother could truly care for him as her own, not after what happened to Aegon. There would always be that flicker of resentment he knew. However that potential divide was bridged by Rhaenys, who, with her childish innocence, soon started taking care of her little brother, something that seemed to make it far easier for Elia to care for the boy as well.

Elia herself seemed to have come alive for the first time Jaime had ever seen her. It was truly a testament to the incredible woman that she was, that Jaime had only now realized just how miserable she was in the Red Keep. She had an incredible strength, he had come to realize, always finding happiness in the seventh hell that was King's Landing. But now she for the first time seemed genuinely happy in a way that made Jaime's heart swell. There was of course the feeling of being home again, Jaime guessed, but there was also a new sense of life in the Dornish Princess, meeting with every lord that came to Sunspear as the preparations for war were made and having more fun playing with Rhaenys and Oberyn Martell's two bastard daughters then the children themselves seemed to. She was a joy to be around.

There was still the darkness from the past, unmistakable from the weary look in her eyes and the way a mix of joy and sorrow passed her face whenever she looked at Rhaenys. And yet the sorrow seemed to go away as the little dragon started playing, and day by day the weariness seemed to fade away from her eyes. It was much the same for Jaime too. Rickard Starks and Rhaella's screams still appeared almost every night, but they didn't seem to hurt him as much and the memory of Aerys shouting burn them all seemed to lessen.

And yet for all the newfound joy at being in the exotic palace, there was also a weariness slowly descending upon the castle. War was coming, and it would be a long and bloody one. Oberyn Martell's hairbrained scheme did have the potential to protect Dorne better, but the fact of the matter remained that there was no way Dorne could fight five Kingdoms in the open field. So the only way ahead was a long drawn out blood bath. It was a chilling fact, knowing that another war was coming, but Jaime could at least take some consolation in knowing that this time he wouldn't be fighting for a madman.

The gloomy atmosphere had only gotten worse as they had received the raven from King's Landing. Jon Arryn was coming to negotiate Dorne's peaceful reentry into the Seven Kingdoms. No doubt Elia's little scheme of sending half truths to Robert Baratheon via the little cranogman had borne fruit and sent them reeling. And so they had sent Jon Arryn to them to his certain demise. Yet as good as the news of being able to easily take out one of the heads of the rebellion was, it still didn't change the fact that with his arrival war became inevitable. War had always been inevitable he knew, but now instead of being some far off amorphous thing, it's beginning was sailing towards the pier where Jaime stood, no doubt having set sail from the Rainwood as to avoid Dragonstone.

Still taking out the heirless Jon Arryn was a good thing he knew. Not only did it remove the second most capable person in the rebellion, but with no clear heir it threatened to plunge the Vale into all out civil war. He could only hope that Ser Gerold's mission to the Reach was going as well.

In front of him, leading the mummery of an honor guard sat Areo Hotah, Doram Martell's dutiful captain of the guards. The man was a bit of a bore if he was honest, with nothing but his duty filling his life. However for all that he had to admit that the man was a truly formidable fighter. He had arrogantly asked the man for a spar thinking he could show off some of his skill only to find himself on the ground within a couple of moves, the man's dulled longaxe at his neck. It had taken quite a few spars for him to finally learn to deal with the weapon and actually score a win. Though the man didn't show it, Jaime suspected that the sparring had given him some begrudging respect for him. If he was honest he too had gained some respect for the Norvosi. Almost any man that dealt with that longaxe without any experience will get killed, he reasoned. He had been reckless the first time around, but even if he had been at his peak he wasn't sure he cold have won.

The only man he knew that would have probably won was Ser Arthur. The thought of his mentor however brought back dark memories for Jaime. Even now he could still remember the moment of his death with crystal clear accuracy. The fight had seemed over. Only the big Northman he later learned was called Wull and Eddard Stark remained, with him dealing with Wull and Arthur Dayne dealing with Stark. He had half a mind to only disarm his opponent when one of the Northmen seemingly came back from the dead to ram into Ser Arthur's feet.

If he was to name the most dishonorable way to take down an opponent in a fight, that would be it. What was worse however was that as he replayed the fight in his mind he had realized that Eddard Stark had intentionally moved so as to put Ser Arthur in front of the man. The oh so famous _honorable_ Ned Stark, trying to save his skin through the dirtiest trick, capitalizing on it instantly and killing the best swordsman that ever was. Jaime didn't have the same boyish admiration for Ser Arthur as he had not a year ago, but he still couldn't help but look up to the man like a father figure. Any thoughts of mercy or honor had died in the second Ser Arthur did. Luckily for him he had just finished the Wull, leaving him with only Eddard Stark and the barely alive Northmen on the ground.

He could have shown mercy, he needn't have executed the Northmen on the ground, or Ned Stark after he had struck him in the belly, but in that moment all that was in his mind was rage. He couldn't say he regretted it. The man deserved to die for Ser Arthur. After all that time seeing people die dishonorable deaths and doing nothing, he didn't want to ever sit by and do nothing again.

He was brought out of his musings as the ship approached the pier they were sitting at. The ship itself was pretty simple looking, with one square sail in the middle, a triangular one in the front, and a bit over ten oars on each side. Judging by looks there couldn't be more then forty men on board. In contrast there were over fifty waiting for them, all highly trained members of the Martell household guard with the Norvosi in the front. Jaime was sitting right behind him, dressed as a common guard. He knew he wouldn't fool anyone looking him up close, but if Jon Arryn did look at him it would already be too late to go back for the man.

Slowly the ship docked on their pier. Sailors went for their usual process of tying the ship down before a plank of wood was lowered from the board to the pier and the retinue of Jon Arryn slowly stepped out of the ship, coming to face their own larger retinue. As it happened he had overestimated their numbers, with only 20 men disembarking, thought all seemed to be knights if the heraldry they all wore was anything to go by. Lastly a man that could only be Jon Arryn descended on the gangplank.

Jon Arryn was a tall proud man, and even without the white and blue that adorned his cloak he would have been obviously the lord from the way he carried himself. Thought long past his prime, aged over fifty, his still had a look of strength about him, white hair and all. His sharp blue eyes looked at the retinue in front of him, before a flicker of disappointment flashed his face, quickly suppressed under a mask of lordly coldness. _No doubt he thinks this is a power play_ , Jaime thought to himself. With that Jon Arryn descended the gangplank, placing himself before his men. Jaime noticed that all of the knights were wearing thick armor. Big mistake, he knew. Not only would they quickly tire under the scorching Dornish sun, but on the narrow pier where at most ten men could fit abreast, the armor would slow them down and be a deathtrap were they to fall over.

"Lord Arryn", came the booming voice of Areo Hotah

"Who do I have the honor of addressing?", Lord Arryn asked before the captain of the guards could continue. Upon realizing that there was no royalty there to meet him his face bore that disapproving look for a second before going blank again.

"Areo Hotah, the captain of the Guards. By order of Prince Doran Martell you are under arrest. Please come in peace", the man answered dispassionately.

The tension that filled the air at that was so thick Jaime wagered he could cut through it with his sword. No one made a move. No one spoke. Almost everyone had their hands on their swords, though no one drew. Robert Baratheon's Hand of the King on the other hand was scanning the mass of soldiers, in a way that was eerily reminiscent of his own father. Finally after what seemed like an eternity he looked straight at Areo and spoke

"Very well. Lay down your arms", he said, his voice trying to seem cold and dispassionate. However, after a lifetime under Tywin Lannister, Jaime had learned to read cold and dispassionate quite well. There was fear in his voice, no matter how well he tried to hide it. Most of the knight reluctantly removed their hands from their pommels, but not all.

"My lord are we going to allow these snakes...", a big, dumb looking knight started asking

"Yes, now stand back Hardyng", Jon Arryn spat out. After a moment the man too removed his hand from the pommel.

"Olyvar, Marence, Drey, take their swords.", Areo ordered. The men in questioned stepped forward, and slowly and tensely begun collecting the swords of the knights who reluctantly gave them away. After they were finished Areo ordered another ten men to scour the ship and another thirty to lead the knights away. Soon there was just him, Areo, eight more guards and Jon Arryn

"Come now my lord", Areo said respectfully. 

Jon Arryn was clearly not a man to complain when it would do him not good, so he quietly allowed himself to be surrounded by the remaining men before being led away. The Dornish sun was blazing in the sky as they entered the Shadow City. The heat no doubt kept everyone inside as there was no one to greet them in the city. One would be forgiven for thinking that the city was deserted, though having lived around it for enough time now, Jaime knew that it was anything but. Looking closely he could see the eyes staring at their procession through the half closed windows, boring into Jon Arryn.

Jaime knew those looks, it had been the looks he had received everywhere once he arrived, be it the Shadow City or Sunpear. He half suspected that no one lashed out at him only due to him bringing their princess back home. Slowly with Elia making sure enough people knew the truth and the rumors spreading, the dirty looks receded. There was still the occasional one here and there, but he no longer felt haunted by eyes that seemed to speak with the voice of Eddard Stark, saying Kingslayer in that cold judgmental voice of his.

For the first time however none of those eyes even bothered to look at him. All where focused on the Falcon Lord. If Jon Arryn was aware of that he gave no signs, walking proudly with his head held high as if he wasn't a prisoner being led to his demise and the demise of his house. Eventually their quiet procession arrived before the Walls of Sunspear itself. There, atop the gatehouse, waited Prince Doran and Princess Elia.

Prince Doran looked as he always did, plain and unthreatening, his modest and unassuming exterior masking a very dangerous man indeed. His eyes however were taken by the figure next to him. Princess Elia, looked every bit a princess, wearing a very beautiful red and gold dress, after the colors of her house, the dress perfectly accentuating her womanly forms. In the Dornish sun her skin seem to radiate, resulting in her looking absolutely breathtaking. She threw him a glance, her lips slightly curving upwards no doubt at the thought of the Falcon Lord not realizing who was right behind him before looking at the man in question all smiles disappearing from her face, a Queenly façade taking its place.

Jon Arryn however looked absolutely flabbergasted, all façade dropping from his face, only shock remaining as the scale of his predicament was finally revealed to him.

"Princess Elia, such a surprise to find you here", he said between gritted teeth

"Queen Regent now", she replied airily. Lord Arryn looked as if he might say something at that, before he seemed to make up his mind and remain silent.

"Areo, take him to the Spear Tower", Prince Doran said. the tall man soon complied, departing with the prisoner leaving Jaiem alone. He first thought of going to stand guard, but at realizing he was still wearing the Martell household guard clothes he decided to first change, going to hi rooms in the Sun tower to do so.

His room was a simple former servants quarter. He had obviously been offered rooms more befitting of his status, but Jaime had refused insisting on the small room near Princess Elia's rooms. He was too used to his former cell in the White Sword tower by then to care anymore. He quickly got rid of the Martell clothes and put on the thinnest woolen shirt he could find before putting on his armor and white cloak. Just as he was about to head out and look for the Princess however, his door opened to reveal the Princess in question herself. _Jaime couldn't help but quickly admire her beauty. Her house colors really complemented her quite well_.

"Ser Jaime", she said with a slightly inquisitive tone

"Yes?", he asked back

"I have a slight conundrum which I hoped you might answer", she said entering the room, "How exactly to deal with Jon Arryn."

"And how may I help?", he asked slightly puzzled

"Well I intend to offer him a chance to turn his cloak and join our side in exchange for his life", she said simply

"You know he's not going to take it?", he asked simply

"Yes, probably. He doesn't trust us, his beloved Eddard Stark is dead by our hands, and his beloved Robert Baratheon is the King. I doubt he would fight against him. And plus he is an old man, he probably thinks he doesn't have anything to lose.", she replied with a small sight

"I'm sensing you're about to get to the point", he replied with a small chuckle

"Quite. If or rather when he refuses, I am questioning whether to have him executed immediately or give him a trial."

"So you want to know if I'd fight a trial by combat", Jaime asked quickly getting to the point

"Yes. If you don't want to, it's not a problem we can execute him outright, but him losing in a trial by combat would give a certain amount of legitimacy to our cause. It would also help out with the faith quite a lot. Of course, he will probably try and go for a regular trial, in which Doran and I will take care of him, but we need to check all eventualities"

"Alright, I'll do it", he answered simply

"Are you sure? I'm sure Doran will give me Areo without any complaints if you don't want to do it", she said

"Don't worry princess", he replied, "I'll do it regardless. For you, for Rhaenys and for Aegon", he said solemnly. Jon Arryn might have been relatively blameless as rebel leaders go, at lest once Aerys called for heads, but he was still one of the main reasons for everything that had happened.

"Thank you, Ser Jaime. Now would you mind escorting me to give Jon Arryn our terms?"

"Not at all", he said, quickly following the Princess out of the room and towards the Spear Tower. After what Jaime felt was entirely too many steps they finally arrived what must have been the very top of the blasted tower. They found the door to the Falcon Lord's rooms guarded by just two men. At the Princesses commands they quietly opened it, letting them enter before locking it back behind them.

The prison was actually a small suite of room, more then acceptable for even someone of Jon Arryn's station. The man himself was sitting in a chair by a window, looking out over the horizon.

"Lord Arryn", the Princess said coldly walking towards him

"Queen Elia", he said mockingly, a dry mirthless chuckle coming from him as he turned around, before his eyes narrowed upon seeing Jaime. "What do you want? Have you come here to gloat?", he asked Elia pretending not to have seen Jaime

"No, I'm here to make you a proposition.", she said, getting only a pair of raised eyebrows from the old Lord Paramount before continuing, "There's going to be a trial tomorrow"

"Trial? For what?"

"Treason, plotting to usurp the crown and aiding regicide", Elia replied firmly

"If I am to be tried for aiding regicide how about that one over there", he said pointing his head at Jaime, "who actually committed the regicide", he finished with a triumphant note in his voice. _The fool thinks the Dornish don't know about Aerys and me._

"You mistake me, my lord", Elia replied almost sweetly, "I'm not talking about Aerys, but rather Aegon. He was King after Aerys died, until Tywin Lannister's brutes killed him", she said, causing the man to lose all triumph from his face

"I see. In that case why don't you just kill me here and now, make it easier for everyone?"

"Because I want to give you a choice", she replied, finally getting where she wanted "Admit to your guilt tomorrow and you will be kept as a hostage of the crown. Command you bannermen to fight for us and you will be allowed to keep your live and title. Refuse and you will die, and the Arryn name will die with you"

"The Arryn name will die with me regardless, your Aerys and Jon Connington saw to that. And I will not betray Robert for you. So kill me and be done with it, but do not pretend it is justice."

"Very well", she said, turning towards the door, Jaime in tow. After the guards had left them out the Princess added

"Oh well, it could have gone worse"

"How so?"

"He managed to contain himself from telling me where to shove my offer", she replied dryly

"Only barely though"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter, Jon Arryn's trial. Should be fun


	10. Elia III

Elia had been a just a little girl when her mother had died. And yet, she could still remember the Princess of Dorne sitting proudly on the Throne she herself now sat on. She had made it look so easy, so noble. To Elia sitting there, the whole hall watching her, it felt as if every gaze burned her, and the struggle to remain unmoving seem incredible. _How did my mother do it?_ , she asked herself. No doubt Doran knew the answer to that. As a second child she was never expected to rule, particularly as a woman. Doran on the other hand had been the one groomed since birth to sit on a throne.

And now, even if all went well she'd be ruling an entire continent for the next ten and six years. She didn't even want to know how sitting the Iron Throne might feel like. In that moment, feeling the pressure mounting on her, even sitting for a few minutes, she could almost understand how Aerys had gone mad. But self pitying wasn't going to do anything for her. She needed to be strong, for Rhaenys and even for little Jaehaerys. She doubted she will ever look at the little boy and not see the destroyed corpse of her son, but for all that, he was still an innocent, motherless child that deserved and needed her care.

So she steeled herself as the prisoner was announced. The main hall of Sunspear was packed to the brim with guards, nobles and smallfolk, all wanting to see the trial. In the middle of the hall, quite a few dozen feet in front of the Throne she sat upon, was a small dock for the accused. At that moment the gates of the Hall opened and Jon Arryn was brought in to the whispers of the audience. The Lord Paramount of the Vale stood proud, seemingly unaware of the two guards behind him, his posture tall and proud as he walked towards the box. He was wearing all the ceremonial finesses deserving of a Lord Paramount, no doubt having brought so rich a garb for the purposes of negotiating.

Finally he was settled in the prisoner's box, sitting down on the small bench in it as he scoured the audience with his eyes. The audience in turn looked at him with barely hidden hatred and contempt. Dorne was thirsty for blood, she knew, and knowing what the Lord in front of her had done, she was in no mood to deny them. However as she discussed with Doran the man being here was both a boon and a danger. He would die, and killing him would leave the Vale leaderless, probably plunging head long into civil war. However if they were seen as killing rebel leaders indiscriminately they would lose all support from the former rebels, they both agreed. The trial needed to look like a trial. The battle would not be over the verdict she knew. She rose from her chair to speak, trying to hide her nervousness.

"My lords, people of Dorne, the last years have been hard and bloody. War, treason and violence have torn our realm to shreds, and whatever we might do, even more will come. But, right now we have the chance to bring to the Seven Kingdoms something they have not seen for a very long time. Justice. Not vengeance, not murder, nor tyranny. Justice delivered by a court of law, against one of the men that have worked so hard against it. Justice, in the name of House Targaryen, in the name of House Martell, in the name of the nobles and smallfolk, of Dorne, King's Landing and all the Seven Kingdoms", she said to a clapping crowd. "Herald, read the charges", she said, motioning to Sunspear's herald, a middle aged, slightly fat man, who however had a strong booming voice perfect for the job.

"Jon of the House Arryn, you are hereby charged with the following. High treason, inciting and rising up in rebellion, murder, conspiracy to usurp the Throne and aiding the regicide of King Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm", he finally finished. Adding Aegon there, she knew was necessary to remind the Dornish that Aegon was not usurped by Jaehaerys, and if it secured their support, she would need to bare the pain thinking of her babe meant. "You are accused of being a traitor, a murderer and an enemy of all good people of Westeros.", the herald finished, prompting a small chuckle from the Falcon Lord. _I wonder what he finds so amusing_ , Elia wondered to herself

"How do you plead, Lord Arryn?", she asked

"There are many unlawful authorities in this world.", he started speaking, surprising Elia. "Thieves, outlaws, traitors... and tyrants. All of them have the power to kill, execute and retaliate. However only a lawful authority can deliver justice. I demand to know, by what lawful authority am I here?"

 _Fuck_ , Elia said to herself. This was exactly what Doran had warned. The man was turning their attempt to make his death look like a lawful execution, into his weapon, challenging the legitimacy of their justice.

"In the name of Jaehaerys Targaryen and House Targaryen, the very same house you betrayed", she answered, unable to hold the venom in her voice, thinking about Aegon.

"The boy is a bastard", the man replied coolly

"He is not. Prince Rhaegar married under the doctrine of exceptionalism, the boy is his trueborn heir". This was dangerous, she knew. Slowly, in the past weeks, meeting with all the nobles of Dorne, she had convinced them, using arguments that ranged from the theological to the practical, to accept Jaehaerys as King alongside Rhaenys. It had been hard for her, but necessary, and eventually she had succeeded in convincing the lords. However she knew full well it was still a delicate issue, one that could harm them. She couldn't allow such a conversation to continue. "The next time you suggest otherwise will be held as an admission of treason, my lord. Now, how do you plead?"

"You spoke of justice, Your Grace. Is it treason to demand by what authority am I seated here? You want me to make a plea? You need to establish the authority I am seated here, before I can give an answer. The child born of a bigamous marriage of the son of an attainted tyrant is not enough authority to satisfy any reasonable man."

"Maybe not for you my lord, but it is enough for this court.", she replied, feeling as her temper was beginning to slip.

"If you excuse me, Your Grace, but my opinions should not matter any more then yours. The opinions of the lords here should be the ones who matter. I am here now not in my name, but in their name, and in the name of every other lord and person in the Seven Kingdoms, who as you so put it, craves for justice, not murder nor vengeance."

 _This is getting dangerous_ , she realized, looking at both the Lord and the lords around him. Some of them were even nodding, no doubt the arguments of polygamy striking a chord with them.

"I will ask you again, my lord, how do you plead?"

"And I will ask you again, on what legal authority am I brought here. This is not my case alone, you claim to represent the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and you are in control of at least one of them, it is the freedom and liberty of the nobles you rule and want to rule over that I represent. Pretend this to be what you want, I stand by their rights to a free trial, by a _lawful_ authority. And what makes Jaehaerys Tagraryen the lawful authority, as opposed to Robert Baratheon, Rhaenys Targaryen or Viserys Targaryen? For with a power making up laws, making up who is the King, and making up justice, I cannot be sure what noble can be assured of his life."

"My Lord, you are not to dispute the authority of the court", she replied sourly. She knew that according to the laws of Viserys the Second, the ones that established some semblance of court procedures, that should the accused refuse to enter a plea he could be tortured until he gave one. And Lord Arryn was very much tempting her to do as much. Yet she knew that if they tortured him no one would see this as justice, and mutters of the original Rhaenys and her fate in Dorne would soon follow. So she needed to do something else.

"Otherwise you shall be held in contempt of court", she continued. It was a risky idea, but holding him in contempt would allow her to remove him from the proceedings. It would diminish the legitimacy of the court however, so she hoped it need not come to that.

"And what justice will that be? The justice of Aerys II, the man who broke all fealty, the man who demanded the heads of my wards for no crime what so ever, the reason why I took up... why I defended myself with arms.", he continued. _Damn it_ , she had almost got him, only for him to correct himself at the last second. "And you have yet to answer my question, how is the child of a polygamies marriage, not accepted by the faith or the realm, the descended of a tyrant who burned people alive on a whim the rightful ruler"

"This is not Aerys's trial, my lord, this is your. How do you plead?", she answered. She needed to end this, the crowd especially was getting angsty she could see.

"I do not plead, because I have not seen anything to deem this a legitimate trial. People of Dorne, are you going to tell me you can hold a legitimate trial, in the name of a child born from a man who fled from you own Princess to marry the betrothed of a Lord paramount, the grandchild of Aerys the Mad? Are you going to stand for that from your liege, the ruler of Dorne? Are you going to accept a trial done in his name as legitimate?", he asked. His question made her own blood boil, and hearing a few sounds of agreement in the crowd, she knew that this had gone of far enough. She rose from her chair and mustering all her strength started speaking

"Lord Arryn, you are hereby found in contempt of court, your presence will no longer be required.", she said as un uproar begun. At Areo's signal several of the guards stepped forward and took the Lord away. Only then did the hall begun to settle. Finally she spoke up again.

"In the name of the crown, Prince Doran Martell shall be the one to speak", she said, motioning to her grim looking brother, who rose and begun to speak

"Thank you, Your Grace", he begun speaking as thought the previous events hadn't even registered to him. "The case for the crown is simple. Lord Jon Arryn plotted to usurp the King long before the Rebellion. When Aerys killed Brandon and Rickard Stark and demanded the heads of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn was one of the main ones promoting the Rebellion to be not about removing Aerys, but about placing the Usurper Robert Baratheon on the Throne. From that charge of treason, the other charges of usurpation, murder and regicide follow naturally, as the crown will prove. I call upon the first witness, Ser Aron Santagar", he said as the aforementioned knight came to the front to testify

The rest of the day passed as her brother brought more and more damming witnesses, mostly in the form of various members of his massive spy network. Elia couldn't help but be impressed by it, and grateful as their testimony averted most of the damage she allowed Arryn to do to their cause. By the end the nobles had returned to calling for Jon Arryn's head. Yet some of the damage was still done. The scribes that were writing it all down would pass on all that he said, and their cause would be harmed by it, though it would be more harmed if they made it look like cold blooded murder she knew.

Finally, as the sun was setting the last witness came and went, and her brother rose once more

"That, Your Grace, is the case for the crown.", he said simply

"Thank you, Prince Doran. As Lord Arryn was found in contempt, he has forfeited the right to calling witnesses or cross examining the ones brought here. Therefore all evidence and testimony has been brought forward. The verdict shall be announced tomorrow. Court is adjourned", she said, departing the hall shadowed by Ser Jaime, thought not before signaling Doran that they needed to talk.

They silently made their way to Doran's solar, where the man himself appeared not a few minutes later.

"Elia", he said with his big brother tone he often took

"Doran, I don't need you to tell me I messed up. I know I did. I fell right into his trap, and allowed him to strongly question not only the legitimacy of the court but of Jaehaerys too."

"That you did", he replied simply

"And now our original goal of making this seem like justice has been undermined. Just like you warned"

"Yes, but you were right, the benefits still out way the costs if this allows us to gain the support of the North and some of the Vale." her brother admitted. Their relationship was never as close as her and Oberyn, but he still seemed to know when to scold her and when to help her out.

"Thank you by the way, for the witnesses, had there not been for them we would have been in real problems", she admitted

"Don't mention it.", he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It seems we somewhat gotten it under control. The only problem is what happens tomorrow at the sentencing. He must be there and he will be able to speak.", Doran said thoughtfully, "And with his previous work the legitimacy of out King and this court are tied. Striking at one strikes at the other"

"What if we use that to our advantage?", Ser Jaime's voice rang out

"What do you mean?", she asked

"I don't know much history but wanting to be a knight as I grew up I did particularly like most knightly tales, especially trial by combat", he said thoughtfully, "And I know it is the most legitimate form of justice in the eyes of a lot of nobles, but more importantly in the eyes of the faith. And with out legitimacy being tied by this case, a trial by combat could help secure our legitimacy with both the lords and the faith."

"That's true", Doran admitted, "but the man knows you are here Ser Jaime, and he too knows all you just said. He knows a trial by combat is certain death with you around, so he will not chance it.", he said, putting all of them in deep silence.

"What if we try and trick him?", she finally asked thoughtfully

"How?", asked Doran

"Well, Ser Jaime, if you don't mind me saying you often come across as a supremely smug and arrogant person"

"Why thank you for the compliment Your Grace", the knight replied cheekily, almost prompting an eye roll from Elia

"You are also a Lannister, not the most trustworthy house right now. And from what Arryn knows he might suspect you killed Aerys on your father's orders"

"Yes, your grace, I thank you for the heartfelt compliments, but what does that have to do with anything?", he asked

"It means Arryn might just believe you if you offer to turn cloak and refuse to fight at a potential trial by combat."

"That could work", Ser Jaime finally admitted after a paus, "I could state my price to be Casterly Rock. I don't ever want to rule it, but I doubt he knows it"

"And if it doesn't work we lose nothing", Doran finally added, nodding approvingly

"Well then, I suppose I should get to it", Jaime said, going to depart

"I believe I'll withdraw as well Doran", she said rising, realizing just how tired she was

"Yes, of course, I dare say we'll all profit from some sleep", he replied as they left the study and went their distinct paths.

Elia soon reached her rooms, and not even capable to go check of Rhaenys, she fell into a deep sleep, not even bothering to change her clothes. Dawn came too soon for her taste as she had to wake up and suffer the chatter of the servants as they dressed her to prepare for the trial. After she quick broke her fast, she had to go back to the hall for what was hopefully the final day of the trial.

When Jon Arryn was brought in he looked just like he did the day before, tall and proud, thought this time she felt like she could detect an air of smugness around him.

"Lord Arryn, before the sentence is declared, do you have anything more to add?" _Come on, do it_ , she added to herself

"Yes", the man replied, "This trial has been a farce, good sirs and ladies, with questionable authority, derived from a questionable claimant to the Throne. I was not allowed to bring forward any witnesses nor attend the supposed trial itself. Therefore I do not intend to suffer it's judgement, and to once and for all prove my innocence, and the illegitimacy of this court, I demand a trial by combat", he finished triumphantly as the crowd flew into an uproar

"Very well, my lord, it is your prerogative. Do you have a champion, or will you fight yourself?"

"I would name Ser Lyn Corbray as my champion", he said. _Lyn Corbray_ , she knew the name from somewhere she realized, thought she couldn't quite say where from.

"Ser Lyn, step forward", she said towards the unarmed Vale knights in the background. At her command one of the knights, answered immediately moving forward.

"Do you agree to fight on behalf of Lord Arryn?", she asked going with the formalities

"I do, Your Grace", he added with sarcasm in his voice at those last two words, "but I shall require my sword back for it, the Lady Forlorn", he added arrogantly, and at that moment Elia recalled who the man was. _He was the one to kill uncle Lewin_. She didn't know if to be worried about it or to be hopeful the man might die today. However, whatever she felt about it, there was no longer any going back now, so ignoring the paint she pressed on

"Very well, you shall have it for the purposes of this trial. The crown names Jaime Lannister as it's champion. Ser Jaime do you agree?", she asked, noticing with pleasure the self assured smirk of Jon Arryn's face

"I do, Your Grace", he said, and she could basically hear the golden man's smirk as Jon Arryn's face seem to drop before turning enraged at the realization he's fallen head long into the trap.

"Very well, we shall assemble on the training grounds in an hour to finally resolve this. Court is adjourned", she said as she rose and departed.

The next hour she mostly spent alone in her rooms, waiting for the time to come. On one side she yearned for the fight ahead. She had seen Jaime fight, after the Tower of Joy he was probably the best swordsman in the country, and by all chances she would defeat the Corbray knight, killing two villains for the price of one. She had heard how her uncle had died, alone and wounded, killed like an animal instead of being taken prisoner by the man Ser Jaime would still fight. In her completely unbiased opinion the man deserved what was coming to him.

And yet she couldn't help but worry. Even if Jon Arryn won his trial by combat there were so many ways one might have an accident, and she doubted anyone present in Sunspear would spread the tale, but that wasn't what worried her. It was Ser Jaime. After everything that had happened the man was his only pillar of support, alongside Rhaenys. Not even Ashara came close. Her old friend had lost most of the life in her, and only being with Rhaenys seemed to bring it back. She supposed she should have felt jealous that she probably spent more time with Rhaenys then she did, but all she felt was relief that her friend and daughter at least had each other.

And yet it meant that her own relation with the two of them was more spread out. Of the remaining people close to her, Doran while being a great ally, advisor and strategist, was never truly a brother to Elia, not like Oberyn, who was currently in Essos, draining Doran's treasury and securing an army. So that left only Jaime Lannsiter. The man for all his arrogant façade with that smirk of his, had become one of Elia most trusted advisers and comrades. She couldn't help but worry for him, even though she knew he could more then handle himself. There were still a million things that could go wrong, and with Jon Arryn being made the fool she doubted his vassal would hold anything back. With that in mind, just before the whole ceremony was to commence she found herself in the armory off the sparring grounds, alongside Ser Jaime and Areo, who was busy helping the knight don his armor.

"Ser Jaime", she said, hoping to not let her worries show

"Your Grace", the man replied with a mock bow that made Areo grumble in displeasure as he needed to return to whatever strap he was fastening, "to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Is the maiden coming to encourage the honorable valiant knight? Cause I'm afraid we both fail those parts quite a lot", he added with a smirk, making Elia laugh a bit despite of herself

"Indeed we do. No I was just curious if you realized who this Lyn Corbray is?", she said as the smirk fell from Jaime's face instantly

"Aye, I know, he's the one who killed Ser Lewin.", he replied grimly, "What of it?"

"I just wanted to ask you two things. The first be careful, the man doesn't sound like he has much scruples. Second off, don't let him yield", she added darkly

"Nor did I intend to, Princess", he responded his voice a mix of both seriousness and that smug arrogance he so often plastered on his face, "Though it is heartwarming to see you so concerned for my safety, your grace, I'd ask for a favor, but I've already promised Areo here to wear his", he added, as they both started laughing and even the otherwise solemn Captain of the Guards had a small smile on his face

"Who would believe the handsome Jaime Lannister was what drove the chaste Areo Hotah to question his chastity?", she added

"Your brother probably would", he replied prompting another round of chuckles, Oberyn's reputation being infamous throughout Westeros

"That he would. Well, I will leave the charming knight and the dashing maiden alone to finish their... engagement, though I still can't figure out which is which", she said as she left the armory, her worries slightly washed away by the laughter. 

However as she arrived at the makeshift pavilion overlooking the training yard, briefly converted into an arena, her worries returned with a vengeance as she gazed upon the man Ser Jaime would be fighting. The man was already there, well armored, with a well polished breastplate and a simple but sturdy looking helmet. Twirling in his hand was a Valyrian steel sword with a ruby pommel. Lady Forlorn she knew. The man was pacing around like a feline ready to pounce. Everything about the man oozed danger, and Elia could not help but yet again think of all the things that could go wrong.

She was finally brought out of her darker thoughts as Ser Jaime approached the training ground, his armor plainer looking then his enemies, but with a white cloak making him stand out. His sword seemed to be the best castle forged steel, but it still wasn't Valyrian steel. Seeing the two men stand in front of each other, the crowds besides her on the pavilion quieted, while a Septon stepped forward with a crystal and begun to prattle on all the necessary ceremony for the trial by combat. Elia barely heard him, and soon enough the man removed his crystal and the trial by combat begun.

All Elia could think about was that wretched fight at the Tower of Joy and Ned Stark's folly. She still recalled how her hopes of securing a Kingdom then and there had turned to ash as the man proposed his hairbrained scheme to protect both his nephew and the Usurper. And then how he and his men turned on the Kingsguard. She had been so sure of victory, and yet when Arthur, a man that for all he had done with Rhaegar was still her friend, died the way she did she was beyond shocked. And now she was afraid. Jaime was the better swordsman, but so was Arthur. As the two men approached each other all she could hear were Ned Stark's ominous last words. "And now it begins"

Surprisingly enough there was very little actual combat in the trial by combat at first, both men circling each other trying to find some weakness, or let the enemy attack first. The crowd was as silent as a grave, and Elia judged she could hear the sea if she strained herself. Not that she cared. It was Lyn Corbray that broke the pacing game first, attacking his opponent with all his might. As Jaime parried, Elia quickly noticed the strength with which the Vale knight was attacking. She had little to no experience in combat, but she knew that he was pushing too hard. It suddenly dawned on her what was happening. _He wants to try and cut Jaime's sword or armor clean off._

Ser Jaime seemed to realize that as well as he begun to parry less and dodge more. At another of Corbray's powerful attacks on his sides, he ducked instead of parry, before engaging the enemies' sword in such A way as to strike it sides and not the sharp Valryian edge. The hit was good and Ser Lyn was forced to withdraw before coming back at Ser Jaime, trying to hit him with an upward strike, which her Kingsguard quickly dodged.

On and on it went, with the knight from the Vale attacking with everything he had, using the edge his Valyrian steel sword granted him, while her Kingsguard defended with a combination of of dodges and well placed parries. However from all the force she guessed Corbray must have been tiring quicker, something that she saw as his attacks seemed to be just a little slower and without quite the same power.

However the man realized the same himself as he soon ramped up his attacks, no doubt trying to secure a decisive hit before he tired out. Then as Ser Jaime ducked to avoid another powerful sideways blow to his helmet, his enemy suddenly kicked his foot in the ground, causing the sand to fly right into Ser Jaime's face. Staggering back he barely had time to dodge yet another lateral strike on his other side, though he wasn't fast enough with the sand in his eyes as the tip of the Valyrian sword bit through his shoulder armor, seemingly without problems, soliciting a grunt from Ser Jaime. Elia could barely restrain an otherwise very audible wince.

However the wound didn't seem to be deep, and with a well placed retreat Jaime managed to get back into the routine. Soon the Vale knight begun to physically tire as his swings became less and less powerful and fast. And then as he aimed another lateral strike, Ser Jaime yet again dodged it, only this time it wasn't Corbray that surprised Jaime, but the other way around, as in dodging his sword found itself rushing towards the Vale knights grip on his sword. A loud yelp was heard as it collided with his hand, biting into the mail and forcing him to lose his sword. With Corbray retreating in shock, Ser Jaime quickly picked up the man's fallen sword and rushed at him with it.

"I...", the man begun to speak, no doubt to yield, but was silenced as Ser Jaime delivered the Valyrian sword with a savage lateral hit, cutting through metal and slicing his head clean off, his last words silent as his hit the ground after his head.

"The Gods have made their will known", she said as she rose, hoping the fright caused by the fight didn't show as she addressed the proud Lord chained by the fighting grounds. "Jon Arryn, in the name of Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, third of his name, you are hereby sentenced to death", she said, as the silence finally broke and the crowds went wild, throwing insults at the sentenced Lord.

She didn't sit around to watch it, instead she just went towards the nursery, needing to spend some time with Rhaenys after everything that had happened. She found her sound asleep, no doubt tired out after another full morning of playing dragon. Her heart ached knowing she wasn't there fore her, but she knew she needed to fight for her. Her musings were interrupted however by the arrival of Jaime Lannister himself, sprouting some bandages on his shoulder but otherwise looking unharmed.

"Was the injury serious?", she asked by way of greeting

"It's just a flesh would, I've had worse", he shrugged no hint of his usual arrogance

"Thank the Gods. I was afraid it might be worse, because of me"

"How come because of you? I was the one that fell for that very obvious trick."

"Yes, but it was because of me that you ended up in that position", she said bitterly, "I messed up with Arryn in that judgement, I allowed him to put me into a corner from where we only got away with the trial by combat."

"True, but what's done is done", the knight tried to say appeasingly

"Really?", she said sadly, "Would you have wanted me to say the same had you died?", she asked

"Well I would have expected my Princess to be heartbroken at the loss of her gallant knight and always carry his memory", he said as both of them started chuckling at that

"It's not really that funny you know. You're one of the last people I trust and care about, everyone else is dead. I couldn't have stood losing you", she said, barely holding a tear and turning to the window. Suddenly she found him gently putting his hand on her back and gently patting her shoulder.

"But I got out fine", he said comfortingly

"Aye, you did, but even so, it was a useless risk. There's a war coming, tomorrow after the beheading we're sending the ravens announcing our presence and Jaehaerys's existence. I cannot make any more mistakes, otherwise...", she trailed off as the horrid memories of the Sack came back, of Aegon and the monster in armor and she couldn't help a shudder. At that he pulled her closer holding her under his arm. It was nice and comforting, so she let him.

"Tell me, are you afraid about what's to come?", he asked without a hint of sarcasm

"Yes, I am, there's so many ways we could fail, and so much on the line", she said, unable to suppress another shudder at her memories.

"Good. Because it means you're not stupid", he said, prompting a small laugh against the coming storm of war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a fun challenge. Can anyone recognize which historical event this is based on? The first one who does, I promise I'll read and give feedback to at least 20k words from any fic they want me to read, be it written by themselves or others. Hint, Historia Civilis fans should have an easier time.
> 
> Next time, we'll be taking at look at King's Landing and how Tywin reacts to everything. Should be fun.
> 
> In the meantime, keep in mind the author feeds on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	11. Tywin I

It was late night and a storm was blowing outside as the Small Council waited for it's King. While making idle talk Pycelle mentioned that this was shaping to be one of the worst storms in living memory. Tywin Lannister however couldn't even begin to care. His mind was on other things. Dark wings, dark words, the sheep would often say, and yet in this particular case they were right. What had seemed like the end of the war had turned out to be only an interlude.

All because of his fool of a son. Tywin loved his eldest, he was too much like Johanna for him not to, but he had to admit that even that lecherous little stump sometimes had more brains than his eldest. Killing Aerys was not strictly speaking a bad idea, Tywin knew, but as Kingsguard do to it so openly... Still there was a great opportunity from there, one he had no doubt his son had ignored. No one could blame him for killing Aerys, Aerys was mad after all and needed to be put down, the rebels would probably have even thanked him for doing the dirty work for them, and yet no one could accept as a Kingsguard someone that killed a King. It was the perfect opportunity to unmake the damage done by Aerys, if he showed himself loyal and powerful enough to Robert Baratheon. In that, presenting Robert with the bodies of Rhaegar's spawn by that Dornish weakling would have worked perfectly, proving the loyalty of House Lannister once and for all.

However, his fool of a son, in his attempts at playing the hero had squandered that possibility for Tywin. He wasn't just the Kingslayer as the sheep had started mindlessly bloating, as if their opinions ever mattered, he was now the man who had saved Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryen. The woman who was Cersei's shame, and his fool of a son had saved her by killing Tywin's own men. That alone could have been a boon, allowing Tywin to proudly declare that the death of Aegon was something he didn't order and then betroth the little girl to Robert and Cersei's heir, or if Robert refused, use her as leverage to get the marriage. Even before the Sack a part of him had wanted to keep the girl alive for that particular reason, however, the shame and humiliation of Cersei being turned down, was too much. It needed to be washed away, and the Realm and the Targaryens needed to be given a sharp lesson of what happens to those who scorn House Lannister.

However, not only had his son thwarted him on that, but he had gone way further than that in his folly. Fleeing the city with the Dornishwoman and her spawn had been bad enough, and yet that would have been salvageable. He could have sent men to find them, and make sure Jaime was alive while the two wanted Princesses died in a way that satisfied Robert Baratheon's bloodlust enough to allow him to keep Jaime, freed of his Kingsguard vows. But then, his son committed an even bigger folly. If Rhaegar's daughter could potentially be turned into an asset by marrying her to Robert and Cersei's future children, Rhaegar's son on the other hand would be an eternal danger. And his fool of a son had fought for him out of some misplaced sense of honor. Honor. Tywin wanted to scoff at the word. His son had seen the realities of serving as a Kingsguard first hand, he had even killed his King, and yet he still clung to the concept of honor, as if honor meant anything, as if honor helped with anything.

And what was more, it was who exactly he was defending that drew Tywin's ire. Aerys scorning Cersei as Rhaegar bride for the Dornish weakling was bad enough. However, Rhaegar further scorned house Lannister by running away with a half wildling, proclaiming for all the realm, that in his eyes his daughter was inferior to a savage wolf girl. And his son had furthered the humiliation of house Lannister by bowing to and fighting for the half breed that came out of that union. Even more than that, his son had killed Eddard Stark. Normally, Tywin would have approved of something like that. The man was a danger to House Lannister, Robert Baratheon's best friend, and Tywin knew that he would be an enemy, with his rigid sense of honor, condemning Tywin's actions. As if a wolf could judge a lion. However, while his death was beneficial to Tywin, Jaime being the one to do it was most definitely not. Robert Baratheon had ranted and raved and it had taken all of Jon Arryn's power before he departed to persuade his petulant child of a former ward not to issue a bounty on Jaime's head then. His son, one step away from being hunted like some common criminal or some disgraced dragon.

And then came Jon Arryn's death. Tywin could not say he was entirely surprised by the man's fate. Going to Dorne as a rebel was a foolish risk. Even had the Dornish not had the Targaryens with them, the risk would have been high. So his death had not really been surprising. What had been surprising was the manner of his death. If he was honest, Tywin did have a bit of grudging respect for the way the Dornish handled Jon Arryn. His death should have been the second murder of Daeron the Young Dragon, a rallying cry for the dishonor of the Dornish in killing an envoy. Normally it should have solidified the Baratheon Lannister cause and made sure nobody outside Dorne sided with the Targaryens.

But the Dornish did possessed some cunning it seems. Instead of killing Jon Arryn on the spot, they gave him a trial. The man was obviously no fool, after all he had been the architect of the fall of House Targaryen, and so he had quickly realized what was happening and denounced the trial and the legitimacy of the wolfspawn. However, for some reason, the man had demanded a trial by combat at the last minute, and Jaime made short work of his enemy. On one side he couldn't help but be a little satisfied in this at least. His son had yet again proven himself a great warrior, and had even acquired a valyrian steel sword. Yet that accomplishment paled in comparison to the damage he had done. With the trial by combat, not only had all nobles been assured the Targaryens would give them justice, which they furthered reinforced in their raven, making an unpleasant contrast with the Sack of King's Landing. _As if a trial would have helped Aerys._ Furthermore, it had also made Jaime a complete enemy of Robert Baratheon. If Tywin could have maybe found a way to keep Jaime after Ned Stark, out of sight and out of mind, now with Jon Arryn's death he knew Robert Baratheon would never consent to leave him be. Of course that was not entirely relevant, not for Tywin Lannister, but it would mean he'd have to be careful, less the Imp inherit Casterly Rock.

That was how much damage his son had done, seemingly intent on becoming the family shame, even more than his stump of a second son. For a brief moment Tywin considered that maybe the Imp would in fact make for a better heir then his first son, before quickly putting that thought aside. The dwarf may be in possession of a certain low cunning, but he would never allow that malformed monster that ripped his way out of Joanna to inherit Casterly Rock. No Jaime would be his heir, no matter the cost, and he would make sure such follies were not repeated on his part.

Still, a crisis was always an opportunity in disguise, and given how big this crisis was, there were quite a few opportunities. First, there was now no doubt Cersei would be Queen. Cersei would have been the Queen regardless, less the stag yank the lion's tail and get bitten for it, however while the Stark girl was alive there would always be complications, especially if the whoremonger wanted to keep her as a mistress. Now, with the Stark girl dead, and disgraced too for good measure, nothing and nobody stood in the way of Cersei's ascension to Queenship.

Even more than that, House Lannister and the Westerlands were setting up to be the undisputed power in Westeros. With the most recent developments, the Vale would plunge into civil war, and Tywin would make sure to fan the flames. The Reach would be disgraced following them siding with the Targaryens, the Riverlands never had any real strength to begin with, while the North would now plunge into a long regency. To make sure the North didn't come back in terms of influence he had been a vocal supporter in naming Catelyn Tully as regent of the North, something that Jon Arryn was forced to reluctantly agree with as a result to his relation to the trouts. With an uncle for the infant Lord left aside, things could only get interesting. Finally, the Stormlands were exhausted after the war, and he would personally oversee tot he destruction of Dorne. Maybe he would put Tyrion in charge of it. Either he would be killed by the Dornish, or he'd pacify them. Either way Tywin would be better off and by the end of it, House Lannister and the Westerlands would be the strongest Kingdom, and only true force remaining in the realm.

So he waited in silence for Robert Baratheon, the lecherous oaf that he knew he had no choice now but to call his King for now, despising the fact that the legacy of his house depended not only on the outcome of the war but in some regards on the whims of a drunk whoremonger. They had agreed to give the Baratheon time before the council meeting, to release whatever childish temper tantrum the man was having on some whore or someone in the training yard. Tywin hoped that it might make the elder Baratheon use his head, though he doubted he would. The only head Robert Baratheon used was the one between his legs. If there was one good thing about Jon Arryn was that he seemed able to control their new King. Tywin could only hope Cersei would be able too. However, he was interrupted from his thought however by the doors of the Small Council swinging open, revealing Robert Baratheon, walking alone towards the head of the table.

Ever since Ser Barristan's defection they had been left without a Kingsguard, another hit suffered by their cause. Barristan Selmy was not only a great warrior, but his name as one of the last of Aerys's and Jaehaerys's Kingsguard carried weight. However there was no time to ponder as Robert Baratheon stormed his way towards the table, sitting down with a look worthy of a child suffering a temper tantrum.

"Varys", the king begun, skipping the introductions, "give me one good reason why you should still keep your head attached. What good is a Master of Whispers that fails to see the fucking dragonspawn being in fucking Dorne, and the fucking snakes supporting them?", he bellowed the last part. While Tywin felt the show of emotions childish at best, he did agree with the assessment. Varys should have known about the Targaryens being in Dorne. Tywin much preferred things as they where, with no check on Lannister power, but that still didn't explain the Spider's failing.

"Your Grace, my spy network has been damaged by the Sack", the man replied with a falsely sweet voice, "not to mention that by your own orders I directed most of my spies towards Essos to look for the Targaryens". Tywin yet again had to begrudgingly admit that he had been played. He did not know if the cranogman had been in on it or just given false information, but regardless they ate it up, and believed the Targaryens had gone to Essos. "Furthermore, my spies did report the Targaryens taking a ship from Starfall, we just assumed it was towards the Free Cities."

"Very well", the King grumbled, "but the next time you fail me Varys I will find myself a new master of whispers."

"Of course your grace", the eunuch answered as if the King had complimented him. Baratheon paid him no mind.

"Now, what are we going to do about the snakefuckers and the dragonspawn?", the Stag king growled angrily. _At least the idiot doesn't want to march to Dorne immediately_ , Tywin thought to himself.

"I think you should begin by stabilizing your reign, Your Grace. The recent events have destabilized the realm. Before we destroy the Targaryens we should make sure the realm has some semblance of stability."

"Let me guess, Lord Tywin", the younger Baratheon brother replied, "you're going to propose your daughter marry the King. We've already heard enough praises about her as to make the Court Poet blush". _Was that a jape?_ With the younger Baratheon brother it was always hard to tell.

"Who else? The King needs to marry again and produce an heir. Who else now that Lady Lyanna is dead?", he asked. He knew that the younger Baratheon brother was not the fool the King was, _so what was his angle?_ Tywin didn't know, but if it meant showing why Robert needed to marry Cersei he didn't care much.

"Lyanna is less than two moons dead", the King replied with anger and sorrow in his voice, ready to go into another temper tantrum

"And if you want to avenge her, Your Grace, this marriage will go a long way towards that", he said, leaving the threat of withdrawing his support hang in the air. There was a brief tense silence at that before the new King finally let out a loud groan.

"Damn you Lannister! Very well I'll marry your damned daughter, Others take you!". It was not the answer a King should give, but Tywin didn't particularly care in that moment. He had gotten the main thing he wanted.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Also, while we're on the matter of stabilizing the realm, the leadership of the Vale needs to be addressed. With Elbert and Denys Arryn dead there is a succession problem.", he pointed out evenly, curious to see how the King and the ever smaller council will react. Not that it mattered, he'd make sure a civil war occurred regardless, however he needed to know what approach to take to instigate it.

"Jon said after the Bells his heir was a young boy called Harrold Hardying. Pycelle?" the King asked, redirecting the question towards the Grandmaester. The man was pretending to be half asleep he saw, and when he replied he replied with the tone and behavior of somebody going slightly senile. The man was a good mummer, Tywin had to admit. Behind the dizzy, bumbling, slightly senile performance, Tywin knew, lay a surprisingly fit man, a sharp mind and an able servant to house Lannister.

"Well Your Grace, the Hardying boy is indeed the last living descendant of Jasper Arryn, Lord Arryn's father. After him there's the Royces, and I'm not sure who comes after that in the line of succession, I'll gave to check", the man replied, thoughtfully stroking his beard. _The Royces? That could be an_ _opportunity_ , Tywin thought to himself.

"Never mind about the others. The Hardying boy is Jon's heir. I'll give him the name Arryn too, Jon said he wanted that.", the King said with a small fond smile on his face

"Very good, Your Grace. I'd also propose we name Yohn Royce as Regent. He's a man of proven loyalty and skill."

"Very well", the King replied with a wave, "Pycelle! Make sure to send ravens, especially to the Eyrie, Ironwoods and Runestone informing them of this."

"Of course, Your Grace", the man said in that same reverent, submissive voice of his. He made a note to talk to Pycelle before he sent those ravens about what exactly he was going to write in them.

"Which brings us along to the last point, Your Grace, you need a Hand now.", he said poignantly

"Too true, Lord Lannister", Robert Baratheon replied with a slight grin on his face, "Stannis, you're now the Hand of the King", he said causing Tywin to grit his teeth. _Aerys started out spurning me too, and look what became of him_ , he tried communicating through his glare at Robert Baratheon. The man looked intimidated at that, however he did not appear to budge. _Does the idiot not realize the danger he's causing?_ The moment Robert Baratheon dies, as Hand Stannis Baratheon becomes liable to Usurp the Throne. In that moment it became all to obvious he'd need to deal with Stannis before Robert. The younger brother was far too competent and a danger to Cersei's future kids.

"Thank you, Robert.", the man replied, "Now, Lord Lannister, any more proposals for us?", he asked

"No", Tywin replied as coldly as he could

"In that case I think we should move on to the war", Stannis replied evenly

"Well said, Stannis. Now, how long till the fleet is ready?", Robert asked his younger brother

"The first ship should be able to float in a week, one or two fortnights till it's battle ready. As for the fleet as a whole, I estimate it's take at least two moons before it has a chance to face to Targaryens, three to be on the safe side."

"Is it possible to hurry it up?", Robert asked with the voice of a child asking for more treats.

"It would be, we have plenty of as of yet unengaged workforce and access to material in the Kingswood, however we do no longer have the money. We poured the whole treasury into building this fleet as fast as we are right now. And all the banks are across the sea, which we do not yet control due to Dragonstone."

"House Lannister will be more than glad to loan the crown the needed money", he said putting emphasis on 'loan'. He had made a mistake paying off the crown's debt under Aerys with Lannister gold, when he should have borrowed Aerys that coin. He would not repeat it, not when he could gain such an easy leverage on the crown

"At what kind of rates of interest?", the younger Baratheon asked

"Oh, damnit Stannis, this is no time to count coppers", the King said causing his younger brother to grit his teeth hard

"As you say Robert."

"Good. With a loan from the Lannisters how fast can you build those ships?"

"With enough money, a moon and a half, two at the worst"

"Perfect", Robert Baratheon replied. "So in two moons we shall be rid of the dragonspawn on Dragonstone. After we deal with them we will finally be able to deal with Dorne"

"Your Grace", he begun knowing this was the crucial moment, "besides the ten thousand soldiers I have present here in King's Landing, I have another thrifty thousand outside Lannisport. With your leave they'll come here, bring my daughter here, and after that I can march the forty thousands and subdue Dorne."

"Forty thousand? That's a bit low considering Dorne's geographical advantages. Shouldn't we try and really the Reach to our cause first?", Stannis asked.

 _No, because I will not allow the Tyrells to come back into favor, nor will I allow anyone to sabotage me getting my son back_ , he could have said. That was folly. He did indeed intend to find his son, and keep him hidden, either in Casterly Rock, or in Essos, until as such a time as Cersei produced and heir and a spare and Robert and his brothers could be disposed of. However he obviously couldn't say that for that he needed to be in complete control of the invading army.

"It would be low, if Dorne was at full strength. As it is they have been badly bled on the Trident". Tywin could only thank Aerys, in whatever hell he was, for forcing the Dornish to send those men. Dorne at full strength was incredibly hard to conquer, even with forty thousand of the best armed and most disciplined soldiers in Westeros. However with them bled out, their options were vastly reduced, making a conquest far easier, even without the total naval superiority Daeron the First enjoyed. "Furthermore, the loyalty of the Reachmen is questionable. If we were to call the Reach banners man would no doubt instead side with the Targaryens." Tywin wasn't in fact very sure about that, he guessed Tarly, Rowan and maybe Hightower would at worst, but he didn't need to say that now. "Besides, of those siding with us, we could never be sure of their loyalty." he ended, waiting for the answer

"Lannister is right, we don't need those dragon lovers, and we cannot trust them. Very well then. Call for your forces, I'll wed your damned daughter, Stannis will take Dragonstone and Lannister will subdue Dorne. Oh and one more thing. Pycelle, send a raven to every castle in Westeros, proclaiming Rhaegar's dragonspawn as a bastard born of rape. Varys, see to it the High Septon does the same, less he wants me to cave his fucking head in."

"Of course, Your Grace", the two men replied, one bumbling the other one sweetly.

It seemed the meeting was at an end, and Robert Baratheon seemed ready to say as much, when suddenly the doors of the Small Council chamber opened and a messenger entered through, clearly exhausted after running the stair. The man took a pause to pant for a breath before speaking

"Your Grace, there's been an attack!"

"An attack!?!? Where?", the Stag replied angrily

"The shipyard, Your Grace", the man said, trying to catch his breath.

As if on cue, all the Small council members rose from their seats and moved towards the southwards window on the Chamber. When Tywin arrived, he saw the walls on the south of King's Landing with a crystal clear clarity. Outside of them, the night was alive, and even through the storm, he could see the light that came clearly from the shipyards where the Baratheon fleet was built. They were on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tywin was such a fun POV to write. Plenty of disappointment all around for him.
> 
> Next time, we'll see exactly what happened at the docks with a Barristan POV.


	12. Barristan II

The ship turned from side to side as Barristan emptied even more of his stomach into the bucket under his bunk. He was sitting below deck in a simple room with four hammocks, though there was no one else in it. Only him and his bucket. Outside the storm was raging, throwing the ship around like it was nothing more than a sock puppet. Suddenly the whole ship tilted in a direction Barristan could only assume was forward, though he could scarce remember at that moment. Then just as suddenly an impact was felt from that direction, that almost sent Barristan reeling, before he managed to stabilize himself, followed by the ship returning to the more normal rocking. Unable to hold it in, Barristan puked some more. _This must be punishment from the Seven for how well the raid went_ , Barristan thought gloomily as another wave rocked the ship.

Their plan had worked like a charm. The moment the raven arrived from Dorne telling them Jon Arryn had arrived and it was time to carry out their plan, the over fifty and a hundred ships of the Royal Fleet had departed Dragonstone in perfect organization. As predicted the news of Dorne's support and the promise of vengeance for the Sack had done wonders to embolden the men of the Royal Fleet, and with that all desertions and mutinies practically stopped over night. The force that departed Dragonstone was as different from the one Barristan found as night and day. Their journey up the Blackwater Bay had been swift and smooth, a far cry from the agony Barristan now found himself in. Their approach to King's Landing had been timed perfectly, coming in sight of the city just as night fell. With the storm blocking out the stars and moon, and covering the sound of their oars the surprise had been total. A few guardsmen had realized halfway through what was happening but they were quickly dealt with. Even in the heavy storm, the mix of wood, tar and rope took fire in an instant. By the time the bells begun to sound to signal the attack, most of the ships and shipyards were on fire and their own ships were already starting to depart.

There had been no coordinated resistance, or if there was, it formed long after they had departed. The raid had been, in every meaning of the word, a success. Their surprise had been total and the Baratheon fleet, as well as their ship building capacities were a thing of the past. Better yet almost no one had died. Unfortunately however their luck didn't last. The very same storm that had aided in their surprise as they were approaching the city, had gotten worse once they were out at sea. Much worse. Soon he had been forced to move into the small cabin below deck he was currently sitting in.

Another wave then hit the ship, this time in what Barristan thought were the sides, thought by this point he could not tell. Was the wall he was leaning his back on face towards the front, one of the sides or the back? Barristan though it was towards one of the sides but he had no idea, as another wave his the ship causing him to shake even more and the hammocks above him swing even more wildly. Barristan had been on ships before, especially during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, but never before had he felt like this. On and on it went, the ships swinging from side to side, interrupted by Barristan occasionally filling the bucket he held in front of him. Slowly tiredness begun to overtook him, but he dared not fall asleep, not in one of the wildly swinging hammocks, and definitely not sitting on the floor with a wooden wall behind him and a puke filled bucket in front of him, between his legs.

So the night went, a horrid mix of tiredness, shaking and sickness. Finally after what must have been an eternity the rocking subsided and Barristan discovered he was once again able to stand on his two feet. He wanted nothing more then to go to sleep right then and there, but as he contemplated that idea he was quickly reminded of the sharp smell coming from the bucket. Deciding to first dump it's contents overboard, Barristan started trying to walk, uneasy as it was. Discovering he could in fact walk, he then proceeded to finally leave the cabin and go on the deck, bucket in hand. As he walked on the massive deck of "The Valyrian", the Velaryon main ship, he looked around and saw from the faces of the soldiers that they looked in a similar state as him, their faces still green from the storm. Fortunately the storm seemed to have abated, and the sky while still grey from the the clouds, no longer looked fit to burst, while the winds and the rain seemed to have stopped.

Quietly and with as much dignity as he could muster he went to one of the rails and threw the contents of the bucket overboard. Having finally done that, he looked around and noticed Lord Velaryon looking at him with a keen and slightly amused eye from behind the rudder. Unlike every soldier on the ship, Lord Velaryon looked perfectly healthy, if a little worn. _Comes from being a sailor I guess_ , Barristan thought to himself. The man wore his house's sea green and silver.

"So Ser Barristan, how was the storm?", the lord asked with a small smirk, noticing him looking at him. The Lord of the Tides had been at first very cold towards Barristan, not least of all due to their past, Barristan had been a close supporter of Rhaegar, while he had one of Aerys strongest loyalists. And now after Viserys had been superseded by Jaehaerys that old feud had seemed to come back. Luckily however, their need to work together as well as Barristan's plan had reduced a lot of the tension between the two, to the point that the Lord of Driftmark took him on his ship for the raid, for the purpose of both showing unity in front of the men and to bolster their morale with the presence of a Kingsguard nearby.

"One of the worst experiences of my live", he replied honestly

"Well if it's any consolation this is probably one of the worst storms I've ever faced". That was surprising. Barristan knew that almost all members of House Velaryon, even before even the Sea Snake, had been sailors first and foremost spending their youth onboard ships. The man's posture and ease with which he held the rudder certainly confirmed his long experience at sea, 

"That so? Well I suppose we should count our fortunes. Without it we may not have achieved the total surprise that we did", he said, to which the Master of Ships nodded thoughtfully

"Indeed though with it we did suffer"

"How bad?"

"Right now around us we have four and seventy ships, almost twenty of them badly damaged", the man replied resigned

"Any hope we might get some stragglers?" Barristan asked hoping to find a silver lining

"Now that the storm has abated, yes. Our fleet is moving slower right now, to allow them to catch up. It's not like there's anything to run from"

"And how many ships did actually sink?"

"Ten, at the least, though given the brief communication I've had with the other ships, more likely over twenty". That was bad, Barristan knew, but not catastrophic. If that was it they could manage. He only hoped the numbers would not rise further than that. 

Luckily they didn't. After breaking his fast with some dried meat from the stores, he returned to the deck watching the fleet as the stragglers slowly trickled in. By noon they had two and ninety ships, and by dusk that number had swelled to six and a hundred, however most of the late comers were badly damaged. That night Barristan finally managed to catch some much needed sleep, and as he awoke the next day Driftmark was in sight and their fleet numbered thirteen and a hundred. They sent most of the damaged ships as well as twenty decently healthy ships to the port, leaving them with one and sixty ships for the trek to Dragonstone.

The island fortress came in sight at noon that day. The castle looked as gloomy and as foreboding as ever, shadowed by the Dragonmount behind it. They approached in silence, as the oarsmen carefully positioned the Valyrian near one of the piers. After the ship had been tied and a gangplank laid, they slowly descended the ship, the previous storm and the innate dourness of the island snuffing out all the good mood following their victory. Slowly they made their way up the castle, their silent procession being led by Lord Velaryon and himself. Finally they reached the gates, however the greeting there was even more somber.

A few guards were headed by Ser William Darry. And while many of the men headed by Ser Barristan still looked queasy from the voyage, the men headed by Ser William looked as though they were at a funeral. The Queen was nowhere to be seen though Barristan supposed that wasn't surprising. When they had departed she had been in her last days, by now she must have gone into labor. 

"Ser William", Ser Barristan asked, seeking confirmation, "where is the Queen".

The man if possible looked even worse. _What the Seven Hells happened here?_

"She's dead. In childbirth." he said and Barristan felt as if all the air had been expelled from his lungs. She had been there not a week ago. The thought of the Queen dying in childbirth seemed almost unfathomable. She always had been the epiphany of quiet strength, surviving almost a dozen births and miscarriages, as well as all of her husbands abuses which still gave Barristan nightmares at night. From beyond the grave Aerys has finally done it. How many times had he been warned not to take his wife when she suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, to let her have a few years so she might heal. Yet nobody stopped Aerys Targaryen so time and time again he had claimed his rights, even at an age when childbearing had become dangerous.

"And the child?", he asked though he already knew the answer to that, after so many miscarriages, stillbirths and sickly children with only Viserys coming out.

"A girl. She's alive and healthy", the man said, looking just a bit better at saying that, "she called her Daenerys". Whatever it was he was expecting it wasn't this. He felt a little better at the news, knowing the Queen, she had probably had no regrets, not with a little girl in her arms, a legacy to leave to the world. Barristan swore in that moment he would protect her, better then he did her mother.

"At least there's something good about the whole debacle", Lord Velaryon muttered darkly to himself.

"True", replied Ser William just as darkly, "and the raid?", he asked suddenly remembering why they left looking at the barely sixty ships at harbor or in the process of docking.

"Went like a charm", replied the Lord of the Tides, "The Usurper's fleet and his docks and shipyards are all ashes now. The storm however hit us hard on the way back. Between twenty to thirty ships are lost, it remains to be seen exactly how many when the last stragglers return."

"I see. Well, I expect you and your men are tired from the journey my lords. Your accommodations are ready in the castle. Lord Velaryon, Ser Barristan it seems we have much to talk about", he said as they entered the castle. Both he and the Valyrian lord nodded at that as the soldiers were led to their barracks and the knights and highborns to their rooms in the castle. Him and the to men however went to the room of the painted table. Barristan could still recall his previous arrival here and his way to the painted table. Back then the Queen had been pregnant and alive. However before the similarities with the last time he was there could catch up to him they arrived to the room in question. At Ser William's offer he and the Lord of Tides took their seats. Then the Master at arms took two raven scrolls from the table giving them to the two of them. Lord Velaryon read them first, deep in thought before giving the scrolls to Barristan. The first was a simple scroll

_To the Lords and Ladies of the Realm,_

_Many of you were no doubt confused by the event that happened in the Sack, no doubt lies and misinformation were spread by the Usurper and the turncloak Tywin Lannister. The truth is simple. My son, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name was murdered in cold blood by men sent by Tywin Lannister. My daughter and myself were only saved by the actions of the last Kingsguard in the capital, Ser Jaime Lannister. We secretly fled to Dorne, finding along the way, a dying Lady Lyanna Stark, and her son by my husband's second marriage, Jaehaerys Targaryen. To protect our lives we kept ourselves hidden. But the time of secrecy is over. Let all good men bend the knee to the rightful King, Jaehaerys Targaryen, and the rightful Queen, Rhaenys Targaryen and help oust the Usurper. With the exception of Tywin Lannister, the man responsible for the slaughter, Hoster Tully, a man who would sell his loyalties for a marriage, and the Usurper himself, all men who bend the knee now will be pardoned and accepted back into the King's peace with no loss of land, status or privileges._

_Signed,_

_Elia Martell, Queen Regent of the Iron Throne, Protector of the Realm_  
_Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne_

There was nothing truly surprising about the letter, besides it's succinct writing that still managed to transmit everything it needed to. The second letter however was much more interesting. Compared to the very small scroll that was the previous letter this one was a proper letter, much larger and yet with a much smaller writing than the previous one. It was a transcript of the trial of Jon Arryn he quickly discovered. At first he read how Jon Arryn hadn't even had the honor to face his charges and instead tried to sneak away claiming the trial and Jaehaerys illegitimate. And yet didn't you implicitly do the same when you bent the knee to the Usurper, a small voice in his head whispered. Barristan didn't want to know the naswer to that question, so instead he just read on. The Queen had aparently found Jon Arryn guilty of contempt of court and proceeded to continue without him, before Doran Martell had presented enough evidence to convict him three times over.

And then after the trial the man had the audacity to demand a trial by combat at that stage. But what he read next made his heart drop. Jaime Lannister had then fought and bled for the crown, winning against an opponent armed with Valyrian steel no less.

And as he thought of Jaime Lannister guilt started filling him back up. The Kingslayer had fought an honorable duel for House Targaryen, all while he had participated in a dishonorable raid. He knew of course honor had no place on a battlefield, weather you were the lowest cutthroat or Aemon the Dragonknight, a battle was a battle. Yet he could not help but feel guilty at the thought of the Kingslayer being the more honorable of the two of them. He had betrayed everything the Kignsguard stood for by killing his King, and yet knowing the truth and everything that had happened, Barristan couldn't help but wander if the Lannister was the better man. He had been the only Kingsguard to actually defend the royal family, he had fought as Princess Elia's champion, he had never bent the knee to the Usurper, unlike him.

He also remember something else, over an year ago as Aerys had been raping his wife, Ser Jaime had asked, and pleaded with him to do something, claiming their vows required them to protect the Queen and all women as knights. He had given him the same answer he knew he had received from all his brothers. "Yes but not from him". The words still brought up bile in his throat, but now, more then ever he wondered if Ser Jaime had been right. Had they protected the Queen, the King would not have impregnated her against her will and killed her from beyond the grave. He knew deep down, that Aersy deserved what he had gotten, and he could help but wonder, what was the line? Where was it necessary to put down a Mad King? When he raped his wife. When he massacred the innocents? When he started a war? He couldn't answer the question he knew, became deep down he wondered if the line had been long passed and they had just sat and done nothign about.

He was however brought back from his thought by the voice of Ser William.

"So, what now?", he asked

"Well, Dorne is already rallying it's spears we know. Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon will probably march on it and try and take it. The Vale will probably collapse into civil war, and we can only hope the North joins our side."

"I meant what now with us and out forces?"

"Ah, that what now. Well the way I see it, all current threats are neutralized, correct?", he asked turning towards Lord Velaryon.

"Yes, unless they manage to convince one of the Free Cities to intervene, which is unlikely to say the least. The Free Cities are too busy fighting each other, Pentos is under the Braavosi boot, while Braavos is definitively pro Targaryen given the good relationship with the Iron Bank."

"And with out current garrison and sailors, there isn't anything we can do on land, am I correct?"

"Unfortunately yes."

"In that case, I propose that we leave enough ships here to watch and blockade the Gullet, and take the rest, plus whatever we can dredge from the Celtigars, Bar Emmons and Sunglasses and sail for Dorne. They have the manpower to properly use our navy and they will have actual need of it if they are to fight the Stormlands."

"Aye, I agree, though we will need to wait. Out ships needs to be mended and properly armed if we are to cross the Stepstones", said Lord Lucerys

And with that the meeting moved on to several discussions about the funeral of the Queen Mother. Barristan mostly phased out as he continued to think about all that had happened and all he had done. One thing he could however be proud of, at long last he was serving a just cause. He just hoped he would be allowed to serve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the battle lines are now pretty clear, with only the North and the Vale being unclear. So next time we return to Winterfell to see how Cat and Ben take the news.


	13. Catelyn II

"So, what are we going to do about this?" her brother by law asked as she put the three parchments down, trying to process all that she had read. Jon Arryn was dead and the Dornish declared for the bastard. She didn't even know how to process this. Her first thoughts went to Lysa. Her poor sister, now a widow just like her, only without the blessing of a child she had. What would happen to her now? She would not rule the Vale, not like her that was for sure. _Would she be forced to go back to father? Will father force her to marry again?_ Catelyn didn't know, and right now, she didn't even have time to think about it, as three pairs of eyes looked at her. Her brother by law, Benjen, had a thoughtful and yet also anxious look about him, Maester Luwin was just thoughtful, while Roose Bolton's pale grey eyes seemed to betray nothing. All three looking at her over the table in her solar.

"This will mean war." she said, trying to gather all the firmness she could muster. Why must we have war now? Till now, her rulership of the North was having a promising start, her Sept would start begin to be built, both Lysa and father had been more than open to expanding trade, and two of the most powerful Stark bannermen seemed to be firmly on her side. But now all that was almost irrelevant, now that war was coming to the Seven Kingdoms yet again. _Gods, give me strength_. "The course is clear." she said a little more firmly this time "we will call the banners and fight for the King"

"Yes, but which King? You may have noticed, now there's two of them." her brother by law replied dryly

"The King the North fought and bled to put on the Throne, Robert Baratheon." she said, hoping her brother by law wasn't really going in the direction she feared he might be going.

"That is where you are wrong, my lady. The North didn't fight to put Robert Baratheon on the Throne. We fought to avenge my father and brother and to rescues Lyanna. Aerys is dead, so now father and Brandon are avenged. As for Lyanna, it seems she didn't need much rescuing. And her child is now proclaimed King."

"A bastard." she replied, vitriol filling her. She knew the child himself was innocent, and yet the though of all that had happened to facilitate his existence made her ignore that. Bran and Eddard, both dead. My love and the father of my child, dead because of that bastard.

"Not according to this letter." he brother by law pointed out, signaling towards the second raven scroll, going over the supposed events at the so called Tower of Joy, and what was there.

"Polygamy was never accepted by the faith." she said, trying to dismiss the topic

"You forget the Doctrine of Exceptionalism." her brother by law spat back

"I most certainly do not, my lord." she replied coldly "However that was about Targaryen incest, not polygamy. Polygamy was never recognized by the Faith."

"Really? Well I'm sure Aegon the Conqueror will be surprised to hear it. Wasn't Rhaenys his second wife? Wasn't their son, Aenys, the ancestor of every single Targaryen from Jaehaerys I to Rhaegar?"

"Aegon was a special case", she replied through gritted teeth, knowing he had her on this

"Really? What makes Rhaegar so different? Lyanna was his second wife too, and at least this marriage was not incestuous. There's also the whole Pact of Ice and Fire to consider." he said.

 _The Pact of Ice and Fire?_ The name seemed familiar, and yet she struggled to recall what that was. It seemed her confusion was noticed however as Maester Luwin stepped in

"The agreement during the Dance, my lady, that a Targaryen Princess must marry a Stark, initially indented to be the first daughter of Jacarys Velaryon, heir to Queen Rhaenyra and Rickon Stark, Lord Cregan's firstborn. However due to all the death in the Dance the pact was never fulfilled." he said "However, my lord, the pact required a Targaryen woman to marry a Stark man, not the other way around." the maester pointed out. However before Catelyn could capitalize on that, Roose Bolton's quiet voice was heard, forcing them to keep quiet to listen to him

"Much as I loathe to interrupt this theological debate, I don't think in the grand scheme of things it matters that much. Should the Baratheons come out ahead in the coming conflict, all the Septons and Maesters will no doubt proclaim Lady Lyanna's son as a bastard, while if Targaryens come out on the other hand, they will all promptly agree the Doctrine of Exceptionalism extends to him and proclaim him as trueborn as anyone else." he finished, and Catelyn was forced to agree with him. She didn't much like her faith criticized as such, and yet she knew it was a valid and true argument. Ever since Jaehaerys the Conciliator the Faith had done whatever the Throne told it to.

"Very well." her brother by law replied more evenly "Which bring us back to one simple fact. The boy is half a Stark, he's our nephew and Robb's cousin, while Robert is what?"

"The rightful King of Westeros." she replied, _unlike that bastard_ , she wanted to add, but kept it to herself, not wanting to go back to the previous argument.

"Rightful King? Based on what?"

"Based on right of conquest." she replied "Same as Aegon Targaryen."

"Really? Tell me, then why was he made King? Why not Jon Arryn, he started the rebellion, or Ned, he had the most grievances, or Tywin Lannsiter, he was the one who took the capital after all, or heck why not your father? If it was solely by right of conquest, why did Robert Baratheon became King and not anyone else."

She knew the answer, she had been there at Riverrun, just after Stoney Sept, when her father, her husband, Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and their bannermen had decided what the goals of the rebellion should be. And when the removal of Aerys was unanimously called for, who to place in his stead was debated. And she knew the reasoning why Robert Baratheon was chosen

"Because his grandmother was a Targaryen." she said admitting defeat

"Exactly, Robert's whole claim on the Throne is based not on right of conquest, but on the flimsiest of blood ties to the Targaryens"

"Be that as it may." she said, knowing she lost that particular argument, and wanting to move on "Robert is still we fought for, and the one Northern forces and nobles seated on the Throne"

"He is, because back then we though Lyanna had been kidnapped. Now with the truth coming out, many Northern lord will demand we fight for Lyanna's son. Umber, Karstark and Mormont especially, I think."

"Why them?" she asked with a bit of curiosity. It was in times like this that she hated being a newcomer, not truly knowing the lands or the people inhabiting said lands.

"Because, both Karstark and Umber despise the South and I have it on good authority Greatjon Umber still dreams about Northern independence. Barring that, a King with Stark blood is the best option for him. The Mormonts on the other hand, particularly their women have always been close to Lyanna. They will want to fight for her son." he finished, sure of himself

"They may want what they will, they are still our vassals. They follow our orders, do they not?" she asked, daring anyone to disagree with her on that. None did. "So it seems to me, the decision still rests with us."

"Indeed." the young wolf replied tersely. "And as I will say again, Jaehaerys is a Stark. He is Robb's cousin. We Starks have a saying. The Lone Wolf dies, but the Pack survives. Your own House's words are 'Family Duty Honor', family coming first. He is our family, what more do we need?"

"You forget, my father is family too. He is Robb's grandfather. Did you miss the part in which he is pointed out as a target of Targaryen retribution?"

Her brother by law chose to only mumble, something she thought sounded a lot like "more like justice", thought she couldn't be sure.

"You forget, Lady Stark, you are no longer a Tully, you are a Stark. Your loyalty is to the Starks, not to the Tullys"

"Not to the Targaryens either. The only Starks left are the two of us and Robb." she said, rage flowing through her. _How can he put so much value on the bastard?_ "And I will not fight the King and risk Robb and the North just for your sister's bastard" she said, unable to control her venom

"No, let's better fight against our own blood to protect the Riverlands and an honor less man who'd sell his loyalty to whoever gives him the better marriage!!" replied her brother by law, just as angrily

"OUT!!! Get out of here!" she said, pointing to the door. The young man seemed to hesitate before rising and opening the door

"Just know this Catelyn." he said venomously "Till now I've supported you in everything. I've helped you secure the regency, I helped you with the lords, and with running Winterfell. I even supported you in building that fucking Sept. No more. I will not support you in this." he said, before exiting and slamming the door behind him. Maester Luwin, seeing that as an end of the meeting quickly rose and departed as well, leaving Catelyn in silence to contemplate all that had happened

War was coming. Her sister, her poor Lysa had lost her husbands and her position, making her a beggar to whoever inherited the Vale. In the meantime her family was fighting for its very survival against the Tagraryens. And yet her brother by law supported them, argued for them and eve threatened Catelyn for them. _How could he? These were the Targaryens after all, the very same Targaryens that had killed Rickard Stark, Eddard and even her Bran._ Her heart ached when he thought of him. How could she be expected to support the child whose existence was the cause of her beloved's death? She understood that he must have had a special love for his sister that was plain to see, and she had understood when he had wanted to go to Essos and protect the bastard. He might have been a bastard but he was still his family, and deep down she welcomed the idea.

She needed her brother by law for now, that was clear, but once she established some semblance of control over the Northern lords, he would stop becoming useful and start to be a threat to her Robb. Uncles trying to usurp their nephews in a regency was a common enough story, and from all the Northern history she had been making Roose Bolton tell her, it seems it was even more common here. Having him away stopped any such ideas from taking root.

However, it seemed the idea of her brother by law going to Essos was now dead and buried, and instead he would dedicate himself to trying to make the North fight for the bastard. She could only thank the Gods she was now regent and not him. Had he not helped her out initially she wasn't certain she would have been recognized as regent over him, and now they'd be placing the Targaryen banner on Winterfell, the banner of the family that had brought her so much pain and misery.

"My lady, do you think it's safe letting him be like this?" the voice of Roose Bolton interrupted her from her musings

"What do you mean?" she asked confused

"You heard what he said. Who knows what he might do?"

"I don't think that much." she replied, hoping it to be true "He can talk to the bannermen, but I doubt he will change anybody's mind about it. And for what it's worth he is devoted to family, Robb included too. His allegiances are, misplaced shall we say, but I do not think he would do anything to harm Robb"

"True my lady, given time he will no doubt reach the same conclusion, probably even support you in the hopes of making sure no one kills his nephew." We can only hopes so, she thought, though what the Bolton Lord was saying was making a lot of sense. "However, right now you saw him, he is angry, and he's making threats. Who knows how he might react in his anger, what he might say or even do. Maybe even something downright rebellious, and wouldn't that be such a terrible shame."

"What do you propose, Lord Bolton?" she asked curious. She couldn't say she didn't feel a tinge of fear at his threat. She was now regent, of that there was no doubt, but still, the fear was there. _Maybe he has a good solution._

"Allow me to take him into custody, my lady. Just for a short time, until cooler heads prevail."

"I don't know, Lord Bolton, I hardly think something like that would make him more sympathetic and less likely to oppose me." she pointed out

"That is why I said to allow _me_ to take him into custody. Let my guards deal with it, they don't have any loyalties to him, and you can say I acted on my own."

Catelyn thought about it. It wasn't a bad plan, and she could come out to 'rescue' her brother by law. It could also be used to pit Benjen and Bolton against each other. Maybe if her brother by law was busy fighting Bolton he would be more acceptant of her decision. It wasn't honorable, but she remembered her House words. "Family Duty Honor". Honor came last.

"Very well, Lord Bolton, but do it quietly."

"I will my lady." the man said, rising from his chair "though if subtlety is required it might take longer." he said, before leaving the solar, leaving Cat to her own devices.

If she wanted to second guess her decision to go ahead with Lord Bolton's plan, she knew now was too late. _What's done is done, and it is a good plan. It could be just what I need to help things._ The lie didn't sit well with Cat, but this was rotten ice. The last thing she needed were her bannermen opposing her. She needed Benjen to at least not make that big a mess. So instead of pondering what she did, she begun to write to ravens, calling the banners to Winterfell. She tried to use all she knew of the various houses in writing the letters. Calling the banner was no small thing, so a little bit of diplomacy would surely be welcomed.

Over and hour must have passed until the last raven scroll was ready. As she finished the last one, she wondered what had happened. _Did they not get him yet? Did Lord Bolton not notify her yet?_ She guessed it could work to better the lie, but she still should have been informed by now. She was just about to call for a servant and ask about Lord Bolton, when there was a knock on her door, and one of her guards, whose name she didn't know, was heard.

"My Lady, Lord Bolton here to see you." the guard said

"Let him in!" she replied. At long last, whatever took so long? she wondered as Roose Bolton entered the room, the same unreadable expression on his face

"Is it done?" she asked trying to conceal her nervousness

"No my lady. I have grave grave news. My men were unable to find Lord Benjen, though we now have an idea where he was. Someone must have tipped him off." he said, and Catelyn's blood turned to ice. _Gods, be good, what happened now?_ She could only hoped nobody did anything truly stupid

"Well, where was he?"

"We discovered she spent a lot of the last hour in the rookery, before slipping away, we're not sure where."

"The rookery? What was he doing there?"

"Sending messages, my lady, to all the important bannermen" he said and Catelyn wanted to scream. _Of course, and now half the North will be demanding I fight for the Targaryens. This is why I asked you to detain him, Lord Bolton._ She could already see her brother by laws slightly smug face when he inevitably appeared

"Any ideas what those were?" she asked

"Yes my lady. Apparently today the Maester didn't have a raven for Flint's Fingers, so this message wasn't sent." he said, pulling out a raven scroll sealed with the direwolf of house Stark. Catelyn quickly took it, broke the seal and begun to read, and in that moment all her terrors became true.

_To the lords and ladies of the North,_

_You know me as Benjen Stark, brother of our late Lord, Eddard Stark. I write to tell you that the current Lady Regent of the North, Catelyn Tully, has betrayed the North, by choosing to fight against a King with Stark blood, building a sept in Winterfell and finally attempting to have me arrested for no just cause. Therefore I declare her regency forfeit, and ask all good men of the North to take up arms to depose her as regent and to fight for the rightful King, Jaeharys III, the trueborn son of my beloved sister Lyanna, a King of Stark blood. A King from the North!_

_Signed, Benjen Stark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems no matter the timeline or the circumstances, Cat still hates Jon. However, before you unload the Cat hatred, keep in mind, she is trying to protect her family here, and she isn't aware just how much of a psychopath Hoster was to Lysa.
> 
> Anyways, next time we shall return to Dorne and see how things are developing there. And in the mean time keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	14. Elia IV

They waited for Oberyn in the courtyard in front of the Sun Tower. When a fleet of ships carrying the speared sun on their flags had first been spotted, Elia had wished for nothing more than to be the first on the dock and hug her brother as way of greeting. Unfortunately as a serious Doran and a smirking Jaime had both quickly pointed out, if she was the Queen Regent she needed to play the part. There where many, Oberyn especially, that scoffed at the trappings of power. However she had spent enough time at court, be it the court of Sunspsear or of King's Landing to know just how necessary those kind of things are. If the nobles saw her as weak she's be in deep trouble.

So instead Areo was sent out as part of the welcoming delegation, alongside a few Dornish Lords. She, Doran and Jaime had waited in the courtyard. The courtyard itself was packed, waiting to see what exotic people Oberyn would bring. She just hoped they were all men. Knowing Oberyn that was anything but a given, especially if Lys had been one of his destinations as she suspected it had been. Alas there was little she could do about it if Oberyn did decide to pull another of his stunts with the sole purpose of making everyone around him uncomfortable. Just clench her teeth and smack Oberyn on the head in private afterwards.

As it turned out many of the attended lords that sat around the courtyard seemed to have similar thoughts as there seemed to be a look of anxiousness and uneasiness as they waited for her brother. No doubt Oberyn would be proud to see them, worried simply on account of his reputation. The fretting seemed to grow even stronger as the gates of the castle opened and a small procession entered. At the head of it was her brother, wearing the proud colors of their house with a smug smile on his lips. She quickly recognized it as his usual smile for irritating someone for his own amusement. Looking to his left she quickly recognized Oberyn's latest victims, and understood the smugness. Lord Anders Yronwood, more than anyone had plenty of reasons to hate Oberyn, after Oberyn had killed his father in their infamous trial by combat. Only someone with no knowledge of history would send him to welcome Oberyn. Or someone who wished to send a message...

Lord Yronwood had already shown himself to be quite an interesting figure. On one hand he had been one of the Lords most open to Jaehaerys being King, something that wasn't a surprise, coming from the Andal part of Dorne. Stoney Dornish as Daeron the First used to call them. However the man had quickly squandered that bit of goodwill by dragging his feet hard on the evacuations. Knowing that a host would be coming, sooner rather than later, more likely than not through the Boneway, Doran had ordered the evacuation of all lands between the Torrentine and Yronwood. The Fowlers and the Wyls, having fought countless wars for Dorne had complied without issue. The Yronwoods on the other hand had constantly dragged their heel through the mud, both to avoid loss of power and to oppose Oberyn's plan. The plan was uncongenial she knew, but it was using all their advantages to their fullest extent so she wasn't complaining. Lord Yronwood on the other hand had spent hours upon hours complaining.

That would have passed without punishment from Doran had the Lord in question not done something else. When the issue of legitimacy came about he openly said that a boy should not come after a girl in any circumstances. When Lord Uller had asked him what about Princess Arianne, the fool had replied that he included that too. Doran didn't say a thing, he never did, but sending him to the Red Viper was message enough, discretely threatening with Oberyn's reputation. If the man could kill one Lord Yronwood, who says he couldn't kill another.

Oberyn probably wasn't aware, yet, of all that had happened, but with their past he clearly hadn't wasted the opportunity to annoy the man. She didn't even want to know how many times Oberyn had casually dropped words like 'poison' and 'venom' on the way here. Her attention however was drawn by the man sitting on Oberyn's other side. The man wore some Essosi light skin armor, but what was unusual about him was his copper shin and long braid. Confirming even more of Elia's suspicions, on his hip was a long, rounded weapon looking like a large sickle. _That's a Dothraki if I ever saw one. A Dothraki, a Dornish Prince and an angry lord. Sounds like the set up to one of Oberyn's dirty jokes._ Alas she had no time to think what the punchline might be as Oberyn and the other three came forward bowing.

"Your Grace." they said in unison.

"Rise, Oberyn, Lord Yronwood and..." she said letting the Dothraki looking man introduce himself.

"Moro son of Jaggo, captain-general of the company of the Horse." the man replied seriously in a thick Common Tongue. The name, in all it's incredible subtlety led her to think that Oberyn had found what he wanted, and the fact that it was led by a Dothraki could only be good. Backwards they might be, but no one matched them with a horse.

"Well met." she replied diplomatically before letting Doran introduce himself as well. She mostly just fazed out of the proceedings, instead exchanging glances with two similarly bored Jaime and Oberyn. Eventually, mercifully, the introductions came to an end, and Doran proposed that they go to his solar to talk things further, the two of them, Oberyn, the Dothraki, as well as Jaime and Areo. Ser Jaime was as usual now wearing his newest sword, Lady Forlorn, though he had changed it's name to Oathkeeper. She wouldn't admit it, knowing the arrogant smirk she'd get in return, but she thought it was a very fitting name.

The study was a bit crowded as they reached it, but it didn't matter at that moment. It was to important to assess how well Oberyn had done. She wanted nothing more then to hug him, or more exactly to let him crush every bone in her body hugging her. Alas, there were too many people there for that, so instead as soon as they were all settled she decided to get down to business.

"So, Oberyn." she begun trying her best to sound like a ruler "How many soldiers did you manage to get?"

"All in all around five thousand, _Your Grace_." he said, with a good hearted mocking emphasis on those last words.

"And their composition?"

"Three thousand Dothraki in the Company of the Horse make up the biggest contingent. They have armor and can function as medium cavalry skirmishers or horse archers, though we'll mostly be using that last one."

"How come there are so many Dothraki? And they wear armor?" Jaime asked from behind her.

"True, my people don't usually wear plate" the Dothraki replied in his accented Common Tongue "however we not like the other Dothraki. We make up all the outcasts that still need work for a living. And there are not many things to do as a Dothraki besides fighting. So we use plate, mail and we understand trade and gold." the replied simply.

"And will they turn on the smallfolk?" she asked seriously.

"No more than any other mercenaries." the Dothraki man replied without much passion in his voice. It wasn't the least bit reassuring, but it was the best they could hope for. _As long as nothing catastrophic happens, it should mean they'll be under control._

"Very well. And other than the Dothraki?" she asked Oberyn.

"Various other smaller companies, and individual sellswords, most notably the Stormcrows. All of them mounted, totaling, alongside the Company of the Horse, around five thousand." Oberyn replied with seriousness that was so usually absent from him.

"And this brings our total force to?" she asked, wanting to double check her calculations.

"Around fifteen thousand spears and two and ten thousand cavalry. Give or take." Doran replied

"More than enough." Oberyn replied jovially. "The cavalry alone will suffice. Out of the roughly seven thousand Dornish cavalry, only two and a half are knights and men at arms, the others are skirmishers and light cavalry, all perfectly capable of using a bow. Combined with the Company of the Horse and a few more sellswords this should some out to eight thousand ranged cavalry and four thousand melee and shock cavalry. Enough for what we want."

"Good. And how much money have you spent on the mercenaries?" she asked poignantly.

"A hundred and a half thousand dragons." he replied. That was good. Better than expected. It was still a lot, but not near enough to break them.

"Very well. Captain Moro, can you see to it that your men are given the proper accommodations?"

"Of course, your grace." the Dothraki replied in that same accent.

"In that case, the meeting is adjourned." she said dismissing everybody. She needed to signal with her head to make Jaime understand that that meant him too. "Oberyn could you stay a while?" she added.

When everybody had finally departed he wasted no time sweeping her into a bone crushing hug, one she tried reciprocating in turn.

"Sorry about all that formality. Had to be done." she said apologetically when he finally released her.

"No problem, _Your Grace_." he said with a mock bow.

"Stop that!" she replied slapping him joyfully on his shoulders. It had been too long since she hadn't seen Oberyn. Doran was her brother and most trusted advisor, Ashara was her best friend, and Jaime had become a close confidant, but none of them were quite like Oberyn.

"So how was your journey?" she asked.

"Well, when we went to Lys there were these women and these boys..." he started.

"No, Oberyn, you can skip those parts." she said with a chuckle "While I'm curious to hear about your adventures, I'm not curious about _those_ adventures." she said with a laugh.

"Very well. Well the first thing of interest happened in the Stepstones..." and so Oberyn begun telling a wild story about pirates and mercenaries, a story Elia would have been surprise to learn was anything more than a quarter true. Still, she didn't care, and for the first time in a long period of time she just enjoyed Oberyn's ever more wild story and laughed along with it. Finally Oberyn concluded his story in typical fashion with him in a brothel with one other man and two women.

"Anyways." he continued "How have things been here? How have you been holding on?" he asked with a brotherly voice completely removed from the smirking cocksure attitude he usually displayed.

"It's been.. interesting. I never expected to rule and now I'm as much in charge of the whole charade as Doran is."

"You have my condolences." he replied mockingly.

"Well thank you. For that at least, you were in Lys on adventure while I had to deal with all the Lords here, as well as Jon Arryn." she said not quite holding the vitriol from her voice.

"Aye, I've heard about that. Still I'm sure you had plenty of help, Ash, Doran, Lannister." he replied "I can't see how you would have needed my help." he said with a smile.

"Ash's been busy caring for Rhaenys and Jaehaerys." she said, not failing to notice the slight scrawl on his face when Jaehaerys was mentioned "And ever since Arthur, she's been very withdrawn. The children are the only ones that seem to give her some happiness. Doran meanwhile, he's... well Doran. I've never had a discussion with him not about politics, while Jaime has become a good friend, but not nearly enough to compensate for all the loneliness. So yeah, I have missed you brother." she said that last part affectionately.

"I'm relieved to hear it." he said before his face turned into a small smirk "Though I'm sure Ser Jaime will be disappointed to hear he's just a good friend"

"Oberyn..." she said warningly.

"What?" he asked innocently "He does look at you as if the sun shines every time you smile." he said with an innocent look which she didn't now if it made her exasperated or made her blush a bit. To that he gave her an inquisitive look before a huge smirk appeared on his face "Oh, so you fancy him too."

" _Oberyn..._ " she said more firmly in warning. She couldn't deny that Jaime was beyond comely, and she had grown to care for the often arrogant Kingsguard, but it was nothing like what Oberyn was suggesting... Or was it? _Ah, damn you Oberyn for putting thoughts into my head._

"Really Elia, what is it with you and blondes? Lannister, Fowler, Rhaegar..." he said, though he seemed to stop as her face clearly went from exasperated to slightly sad and thoughtful. "Sorry about that" he quickly added, more seriously this time around.

"No, it's nothing." she replied quickly. Far too quickly, melancholy setting in. It was a little bit funny if she thought about it, the very mention of the man seemed to bring out the very same melancholy that surrounded him always.

"Do you still hate him?" Oberyn asked solemnly.

"I don't know. I loved him once did you know?" she asked. Oberyn quietly signaled no, so she continued

"After we where married. I don't know, if it was hope, foolishness or if I was in love with the idea of him, but I did feel something for him. Never more than when Rhaenys was born. It was a bitch, birthing her, but it was worth it. She was perfect, everything seems well in the world then." she said. She'd never told anyone all of this, but now seemed like as good a time as any. "The time it took to recover was long and painful but it was happy, Rhaenys was even then overeager to discover the world, even if it meant doing it while crawling on all fours. Rhaegar was there too, or at least he was in a place as much as he could be, what with his constant brooding. One could almost believe we were a happy family."

"And then we went to court. Aerys's snides were one thing, but even more than that Rhaegar seemed to completely withdraw inside, leaving me to have to deal with that all alone." she saw and noticed as Oberyn's face suddenly sprouted a frown. "I don't know for sure but whatever it was we became more and more distant. I didn't want to have any more children, not for a while. He... never ordered me to have another, but it was clear it was one of his desires. So I let him, hoping it might bridge the gap again. It didn't. Then he crowned the Stark girl at Harrenhal, all the while I was pregnant with his promised prince. Still a part of me hoped that with Aegon he might come back to me. Instead all I got from presenting our precious boy was his disappointment I could not have another."

"I had ruined my body for him, and all I got was disappointment. More than Aerys's barbs, more than even crowning the Stark girl I think that was what ended all affection between us. He couldn't get past the fact he wouldn't get his precious Visenya and I couldn't get past that look of disappointment, uncaring for me and my suffering, caring for me only as a broodmare. It didn't even hurt when he ran off with the Stark girl. It was inevitable if you really think about it. And then from his folly and Aerys's insanity came the rebellion. That was when I begun to hate him. Leaving me alone with Aegon and Rhaenys having to suffer Aerys all on my own was beyond excruciating as his madness grew and grew. And then, after dancing griffins lost the Bells, Rhaegar returned to tell me not only that he married the wolf girl, but that she was pregnant. I hated him then. How could he care so little about me, about our children? I never understood. He kept talking about some bloody prophecy. I confess I didn't pay much attention. I raged, quite a lot, at him."

"And then he died. Part of me wanted to hate him even for that, for dying and leaving us exposed, allowing the Sack and the...", she stopped lost in thought as the painful memories of the monster came back to her. Stopping to take a breath she then continued "So now, I don't even know what to think. Part of me wants to hate him, another part just wants to forget him, and some part of me still has some affection for him, for giving me Rhaenys and... Aegon" she said bitterly, before collecting herself. "Sorry for rambling, it's just that I wanted to put this out there"

"Don't worry about it Elia." Oberyn replied affectionately, if a bit awkwardly. "Anyways, let's change the subject. About Jaime Lannister..."

" _Oberyn..._ "

"What?" he replied with a smirk "I just wanted to ask where did he get a valyrian steel sword?"

"Ah." she replied. _Well that was an unexpectedly normal question for him to ask_. "I take it you haven't heard everything that happened at Jon Arryn's trial?"

"No, just the general gist."

"Well, I'm sure we have one of the recorded copies here or there, but the idea is that when Arryn demanded a trial by combat. He named Lyn Corbray as his champion"

"Lyn Corbray? Where have I heard that name before..."

"He was the one to kill Uncle Lewin when he was already badly wounded." she replied.

"Tell me Lannister killed him"

"He did, and took his sword. Lady Forlorn it was called. Now he calls it Oathkeeper. Good name if you ask me, but don't tell him I said that. He smirks arrogantly enough on his own."

"Sure" he said trying to look undeterred by that. Elia knew however that Oberyn was probably a bit jealous he wasn't the one to get vengeance and a Valyrian steel sword going with it. "And tell me?" he started getting that smirk on his face again "Did you give him your favor to wear at the duel?" he asked snidely.

"No, Areo did." she replied in a deadpan, before they both started laughing heartily again, the worries of the day removed, at least for a moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of a slower chapter, as I really wanted to highlight the relationship between Oberyn and Elia. They're very close siblings and due to the plot they have interacted very little so far, so this seemed like a good chance for them to do it. Anyways, next time we finally go to the Vale so see how bad things are. Warning, it's a lot of damage.
> 
> In the meantime keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	15. The Bronze Lord

The meeting place was a open field outside Gulltown. The plains stretched as far as the eyes could see, with only Gulltown itself and Bronze Yohn's camp standing out. Out here one could easily see why the Vale's food yields were second only to the Reach and the Riverlands. _No way to sneak up on anything with how flat everything is here_ , Yohn thought gloomily. Up in the sky the sun shone brightly without a cloud in sight and in the air even if you could not see it, the sea was making it's presence known, the smell of salt fresh and invigorating. However the pleasant weather outside did little to alleviate Yohn's mood. He had come here expecting to consolidate his forces and clear his rear. Instead he had found another enemy. _Damn you, Nestor and damn you, Grafton_.

"They're here." his vassal and commander of his cavalry, Ser Jared Kidwell said, pointing towards the city, seven riders coming in their direction, matching their own seven. Yohn sat in silence a he waited for them to arrive. As they drew nearer he could see their heraldry on the armor. At the head of the gathering rode a man wearing the Grafton burning tower on a red and black background, who could only be the new Lord, Gerold Grafton. The man had become Lord of the Gulltown after Robert Baratheon slew his father on the walls during the storming of Gulltown. Yohn hoped that mayhaps the man would have learned from his father's folly, but given that the parley invitation had been issued in the name of Gerold Grafton Lord Paramount of the Vale, he doubted it.

Alongside him Yohn recognized a few more familiar faces. On the Grafton's right was a tall, blue eyed blond man with a sharp aquiline nose. If his face and coloring hadn't already given it away, then it would be the blue falcon on a silver and blue field that marked him as an Arryn of Gulltown. Yohn wondered how Grafton had convinced the man not to stake his own claim on the Vale. Now that Jon Arryn was dead, the Arryn's of Gulltown were the last heir through the male line, sullied as it was. Besides him there were several other people. Two of them Yohn recognized as coming form the two different Shett branches of Gulltown, though he could not distinguish the others.

"Ah, Lord Royce," the Grafton lord said as they approached, a smile on his face, as he reigned his horse in in front of Yohn, "come to bend the knee?"

"Bend my knee to you? Based on what?" he asked, curious to see what kind of arguments he had. Harrold Hardying was the last descended of Jasper Arryn, while he was the next in the Arryn line. Even his cousin, Nestor, had somewhat of a claim, even if it was lesser than his own and with none of the support.

"Based on the will of House Targaryen, as the only loyal house in the Vale." the man replied smugly

"You still don't have an actual claim." he replied tersely

"No more then you." the lord replied. "You have Arryn blood in you that much is true, but you come after the young Harrold Hardying." he replied getting straight to the point. He wasn't wrong, Yohn knew and in a better world he would have gladly bent the knee to Harrold Hardying. However he could not now. The boy was an infant and firmly in the grasp of the scheming Waynwoods. What's more his father was a mere landed knight. That alone wouldn't have been enough normally to make him oppose him, but there was a war going, and if he knew anything about the Dornish it was that the war would be bloody. The Vale needed a firm hand to guide it though the war, and a two year old wasn't it.

"Aye, that's true enough. However, the boy is the son of a landed knight and an infant besides. There's a war coming, we cannot allow a regency. And I'm not the only one that believes that. Robert Baratheon and even the Targaryens agree, I will be the next Lord Paramount of the Vale." he replied.

"The Targaryens naming you?" the Grafton lord replied incuriously "My, Royce, I didn't know you for japes. You know, your traitorous cousin said the exact same thing, did you know that?" he replied causing Yohn to grit his teeth at the though of Nestor. His cousin, rather then side with him as would have been his duty had instead used his position as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon to take over the Eyrie and the Bloody Gate, capturing Lysa Tully and proclaiming himself as Lord Paramount too. Besides the treachery, Yohn knew that his cousin had also shattered most of his own legitimacy. Now whenever people heard his case they'd undoubtedly compare to his wayward cousin, and it seemed Grafton was no exception

"You can rest assured, my lord, I will deal with my treacherous cousin in due time. As will I deal with all traitors." he said looking straight at the Grafton Lord.

"You dare call me a traitor?" the Lord of Gulltown asked enraged "You, how committed treason against your King?"

"My King? Aerys was no King of mine, not after he burned the heir of the Vale for no crime what so ever."

"So you deny that Jon Arryn was plotting treason way before even the Tourney of Harrenhal? There's a massive letter, I'm sure you have received too, from Doran Martell that says otherwise." he replied with a hint of triumph on his face. Yohn would have wanted nothing more than to call his liege lord's trial and execution as nothing more than a farce, and yet it hadn't been a farce, at least if the transcripts received were anything to go by. Jon Arryn had been granted a fair trial, he had even been allowed a trial by combat. What was even more damning however were the witnesses Doran Martell had brought forward, spies, noblemen and passers by, detailing a fast conspiracy between Rickard Stark, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully. Yohn had been aware that there was something going on, so many great houses don't suddenly start intermarrying for no reason, but he had always assumed it was to replace Aerys with Rhaegar, at least before Rhaegar absconded with the Stark girl. And yet now he could not help but think that maybe Robert Baratheon had been the intended King all along. It would certainly explain why Jon not only took him in, but treated him as if he was special.

"I did not come here to discuss past grievances or what the dead might or might not have planned. Even had Jon Arryn been plotting treason, I most certainly weren't. You were the one asking for a parley. Well, what do you want then? I presume you have an offer."

"I do. Bend your knee and acknowledge me as your Lord Paramount. Join your forces with mine and there will be no punishment for everything that happened. In addition your daughter, Ysilla, will marry my eldest son, Marq. You will not be Lord Paramount, but your grandchild will. It's a generous offer." he said. Yohn knew that the offer wasn't the worst, however to bow to one such as him, without a claim and barely twenty years of age... Yohn would never do it.

"I refuse. I too have a proposition however. Bend the knee and join me or else I'll storm the city." he said firmly.

"Will you? How many men do you have? Six thousand? Less? I have two thousand men on my walls, with that number increasing every days. I cannot fight your forces in the field, that's true enough, but one man on a wall is worth ten below. And supposing you do take the city, what then? You'll barely have an army left, clearly not enough to deal with the Waynwoods and Redforts." he said making Yohn grit his teeth. He wasn't wrong. He needed a quick victory here so he could deal with the Waynwoods and Redforts who had declared for Harrold Hardying.

"Say you have two thousand men. Do you expect me to think they are anything but poorly armed militia?" he asked, to which the opposing lord just shrugged his shoulders.

"Knight or lowborn, they kill you all the same." he replied.

"Enough of this." he replied having had enough "I ask you one more time are you going to bend the knee?"

"No my lord, I will not."

"In that case this meeting is at an end. See you on the battlefield." he said as he turned his horse around and started moving towards the camp. His companions did the same, riding in silence towards their camp. Gerold Grafton wasn't wrong, he knew. Even if he massively overestimated his troops, the fact of the matter still remained they were behind a wall, though he prayed to the Gods that wall still hadn't recovered from the taking of Gulltown over a year ago. He would need to wait to get to the camp and get the scout reports however to find out, so he rode on in silence. As they rode past the sharpened stakes that formed up the outer edges of his camp his squire, Mandon Moore suddenly appeared on horse back coming in his direction.

"My lord." he said, in that solemn, down to business voice of his. Yohn's newest squire was one of the most dutiful he had ever seen, though there was something off in how little he seemed to have a life beyond his duty. "Your commander of the scouts has returned. I took the liberty of inviting him to wait in the command tent." he said with his emotionless tone and eyes.

"Very well. My lords, it appears we have a council meeting to attend." he said as his squire fell in behind him.

The rest of the journey through the camp was done in silence everybody tense and anxious, waiting for to see what the scouts might say. Eventually they arrived at the tent, the largest in the camp, though simple and without any ornamentation, its bronze color being the only thing that made it stand out. The tent was sparsely decorated on the inside as well, having only a large wooden table capable of accommodating a dozen men, two large benches on either side and a smaller one at the head of the table for him.

On one of the benches sat his commander of the scouts, Ser Andrew Wydman. The man had proven himself a great scout in Robert's Rebellion, quickly rising through the ranks and leading the scouting force that reported Rhaegar Targaryen's march on the Trident. After the Sack, as the Vale force prepared to go back home, Yohn had offered the man a position in his household, which he had accepted. That decision payed off with dividends now as he had a trusted and reliable man at the ready to command his scouts. When he saw them entering the tents, he quickly rose and bowed, though Yohn dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He didn't have time for pleasantries. Finally, after what Yohn thought was too much time the knights in attendance took their seats.

"Ser Andrew, I take it your scouts have returned. What can you tell us?" he asked getting straight to the point as the man rose to speak

"Yes, they have, my lord. As requested I analyzed all the weak spots left behind by the storming of Gulltown. Unfortunately it seems that the Lord's Gate has been completely repaired, while the breach at the furthest point north has not only been completely repaired, but that section of the wall has been further reinforced."

"And what numbers could you observe?"

"Difficult to say, given that it was a parley and Lord Grafton undoubtedly wanted to show off his strength, I'd estimate based on that, that the total number is somewhere between one and a half and two and a half thousand men."

"So a number of two thousand men is reasonable?" Ser Jared asked

"Yes, undoubtedly so, Ser"

"And how about their composition?" he asked.

"That is more difficult to say my lord. However by my estimate, I'd say that a bit under a half are part of the city watch, as evidenced by their armor and clacks, a third are soldiers and mercenaries, and the rest seem like civilian militia with nothing better than pitchforks or sharpened sticks."

"Thank you, Ser Andrew, make sure your men get a double ration of ale for their good service." he said as the man respectfully bowed a bit before sitting back down on the bench "Now that we know this, what do you propose?" he asked turning to all the knights in attendance. He had long since gained the habit of letting all the subordinates talk first in a war council before he himself spoke.

"I say we storm the city." Kidwell was the first to say

"Storm it, which what?" the camp steward, Sebastian Maller, asked

"There's a wood nearby, we can build siege equipment from there, ram, ladder, catapults and trebuchets."

"Supposing we do that, we'd still have a hard battle to fight. Catapults alone aren't going to bring down those walls. We'll need to storm them, just like last time, only now we don't have fifteen thousand men but rather five thousand."

"Are you a craven, Maller?"

"No I'm merely stating facts. If we attack we either fail and die, or we'll be so weakened in victory that the Waynwoods will come down upon us and then we die."

"What do you propose?"

"We retreat. We cannot storm the city and if we besiege it we'll be exposed out here. The perfect opportunity for the Waynwoods to take us from behind."

"They'd take you from behind, you spineless coward." the man hissed.

From that point onwards the council became a mess as some wanted to storm the city and proposed various solutions, while others wanted to retreat. Nobody seemed to come to any kind of consensus. Eventually after what must have been a full hour he finally snapped

"Enough!" he said in his booming voice that he knew could put most people in their place "Thank you for the council good Sers, however I fear that it's already night. I will take all your advice to heart and will come to you with a decision come morning." he said. The knights in attendance, sensing their dismissal quickly got out and left, leaving only Yohn, a few map and his splitting headache in the tent.

Massaging his temples he begun to really consider his options. There weren't that many. Retreating was an invitation to desertion for his men and an invitation for the Grafton's to harry his men all the way to Runestone. Keeping a siege however was an invitation for the Waynwoods to come in a crush him against the walls. Attaching the city head on would result in a hollow victory at best, but more than likely in the annihilation of his army. Then there was the larger picture to consider. The Graftons and the Waynwoods were the immediate problem, but his cousin was another one that he would need to deal with eventually. He would need a lot of strength to move him off the Bloody Gate and the Gates of the Moon.

It all seemed like an impossible riddle. A death trap, with walls on all sides, closing in whichever way he moved. The next hours he spent thinking about various plans. After analyzing every single detail of Gulltown's walls and thinking of every single possible strategy he came to the conclusion that there was no way to storm the city without incurring massive losses. By the time he decided his only options were either retreating or settling in for a siege and somehow protecting himself from the Waynwoods, it was several hours into the night. He was just about to call it a day and go to sleep when the flap of the tent opened and his squire appeared.

"What is it Mandon?" he asked, the tiredness from the journey in the morning, the council and the planning, taking it's toll.

"The guards have captured someone. Says he's here to see you."

"Do you know who he is?"

"No, my lord, he wouldn't tell."

"Is he armed?"

"No, my lord, I checked him myself."

"Very well, let him in." he replied. If this proved to be a waste of time he wasn't sure he wouldn't have the man whipped. Soon enough the flap of the tent opened again and a man entered it. He was a short, skinny man, thought boy wouldn't be that wrong either. He wasn't yet twenty if Yohn was any judge. He had a small pointy beard and sharp grey green eyes that looked almost mocking.

"And who are you?" he asked.

"Petyr Baelish, my lord, chief of customs at Gulltown."

"And what are you doing here?" he asked a little more interested.

"Why, to offer my services." he said with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "I'm aware of the, shall we say, delicate, position you now find yourself in, between the Waynwoods and the Graftons. So I'm here to help."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Why, by opening the gates of Gulltown. As chief of customs I have the loyalty of most of the clerks and some of the City Watch through various... payments." he said "That was how I was able to get out of the city. If you agree to my terms in exactly three hours Fisherman Gate will open for you."

"And what are your terms?" he asked. He had no pleasure in buying the loyalty of a ambitious slime such as this, one that reminded him too much of Nestor, but if it was an opportunity to seize Gulltown he would take it.

"First off, all men that fight for you tonight will receive one gold dragon." he begun. _That made sense enough_ , Yohn judged, _no need to haggle over that_ , so he just nodded

"Second off, all those who surrender will be allowed to go free without punishment or continue to serve." _This was no doubt the price of many men for their treachery_ , Yohn thought, _a way to make sure they harmed their friends as little as possible_. Again he only nodded

"And third, Gulltown." he said.

"What about it?"

"That's my price. You want to take Gulltown, then you will have to make me lord of it." he said, shocking Yohn completely.

"You??"

"Why yes, who better than a influential man of the community, one willing to pledge his loyalty to you?"

"I could give several reasons, first of all, why should I trust you with Gulltown?"

"Why who else, but a man who only has it due to your decree. Make me lord of Gulltown and your cause will become my cause. Who else would allow me to stay in charge of Gulltown?" It did make sense, Yohn knew, someone as low as he would only be lord by his grace. At the same time he doubted he would have that big a problem ruling, Gulltown had always cared less about birth than the rest of the Vale. The Arryns of Gulltown were proof enough, descended from the purest Andal line out there, and yet they were treated no better and no worse than any other merchants, and freely and without problem intermarried with said merchants. With all that it was clear that a lowborn such as this Petyr Baelish would be perfect, able to control Gulltown, but also isolated from any potential allies due to his low birth.

"Supposing I agree to that, how do I know you will deliver?"

"You don't. But if I don't you lose nothing, while if I do you gain everything. So have your men at the ready and when the gate opens be ready to swarm the city. Also, as a promise, should you make me lord of Gulltown I promise to provide you with three thousand men within three moons. Should I fail to deliver then you can remove me as Lord." he said with an unusual degree of self assurance. _What's his angle, how can he be so sure of such a tall promise?_

Still it was also an opportunity. Should he deliver he'd gain everything he wanted, and should he fail, then at worst nothing would really change. Offering Gulltown to one such as him was still an unpleasant proposition, but wasn't securing the Vale quickly his main purpose? Wasn't this the best way forward?

"Very well, I agree to your terms." he said, still somewhat reluctant. He could only hope that this wouldn't come back to bite him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something, something, chaos and ladders. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, next time Barristan and co arrive at Sunspear. See you then!
> 
> And until then, keep in mind the author feed on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	16. Barristan III

Sunspear made him uneasy. Everything about the place seemed off. He had been uncomfortable ever since they had crossed the Stepstones, the hot Dornish sun scorching him every time he made the mistake to go above deck. At times he missed the storm, at least that only lasted so long. The sun on the other hand punished him whenever he went above deck. That had been especially true as they arrived at Sunspear, the sun seemingly focusing on them with all it's might. Barristan's feeling of unease was not helped when, at the docks, they had been greeted by Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper. The man's reputation even at one and twenty was enough to make anybody uncomfortable. 

But more than his reputation, it was the angry, predatory looks the man threw him as they walked through the sand and brick streets of the Shadow City that made him really uncomfortable. Then again, he knew that the man was certainly one to hold a grudge, stories of some of the victims of his revenge in Essos had made their way back to Westeros and they were enough to frighten any man. And with Barristan's past with the rebels, the very same rebels that had killed the man's nephew, Barristan could understand where the man was coming from. In truth he even welcomed it. The Sack and everything that had happened afterwards filled him with a deep shame. It wasn't just that Prince Aegon had died, though that failure of duty certainly weighed heavy on him, it was that the last Kingsguard left trying to protect him was Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. The Young Lannister plagued Barristan's thoughts ever since he had learned of the man's rescue of the Princesses Elia and Rhaenys. Was Barristan truly worse than the Kingslayer? Barristan didn't know the answer to that question, thought by the glare coming his way he could be pretty certain of the Red Viper's opinion on the matter. Eventually, walking in the tense silence through the three outer walls that surrounded Sunspear itself, they arrived at the gate to Sunspear itself.

"Ser Barristan, I'm going to have to ask you to leave your weapons here." the booming voice of the man that had been sitting behind the Red Viper, very much like he himself had been sitting behind Lord Velaryon, was heard. The man carried a long axe that looked deadly sharp. _This is no man to trifle with._

"Pardon me, Ser, but I am a Kingsguard." he replied, keeping his voice respectful however.

"That you are." came the voice of the Red Viper, his eyes boring into him "But who's is harder to determine. Until such a time, I think you can part with your weapons." he said, putting a hand behind his back, where Barristan had little doubt a knife was hidden. After a tense moment, Barristan finally nodded and gave his weapons to one of the guards at the gate, before continuing through Sunspear.

He felt oddly naked without his weapons, and the looks the people around him gave him as he walked were of no help either, he could feel their glares, each and every one a miniature version of the one the Red Viper was giving him. He knew he deserved the glares, no other Kingsguard had turned his cloak twice in the institution's history. A few had done it once, two of Maegor's had gone over to Jaehaerys and Lorent Malbrand had defected from Aegon the elder to his half sister, Rhaenyra, carrying with him the crown of the Conciliator. And yet there had been honor in the actions of all of them. What honor was there in what he did? Going from the Targaryens to the Baratheons and back to the Targaryens. _And yet wasn't that it? What man could still truly claim that being a Kingsguard was a truly honorable thing after Aerys. Could he really be blamed for wanting to distance himself from the man's insanity?_

Thoughts of his past ate away at him as he walked through the courtyards and corridor of Sunspear, not really knowing where he was going, just following Oberyn Martell and the massive longaxe wielder besides him, much like Lord Velaryon was doing too. He was brought out of his state of detachment however as they turned around a corner and he saw a sight that took his breath away. Walking towards them was none other than Ashara Dayne, her beautiful raven hair and her mesmerizing purple eyes making Barristan's heart flutter, as well as a few other parts. Two years and one rumored pregnancy later and she was still the same incredible beauty that had taken his heart away at Harrenhal. If only he had won and crowned her...

"My lady." he heard Oberyn Martell say in an almost lewd fashion

"My lady." he too repeated with a slight bow as the lady in question approached, and he looked with hope into those beautiful purple orbs. However instead of appreciation and recognition he was only meted by that same suspicion and even slight disgust in her eyes. Only this time it burned a hurt a thousand times worse than all the other looks. _Even she looks at me with distain,_ he thought sadly, as melancholy took over him, and he once again begun pondering his sins, before he was yet again brought out of his mind, this time by the large man with the longaxe. Somehow the man had, despite his size, managed to appear next to him without Barristan noticing.

"Ser Barristan." he said quietly, though his voice still boomed a little.

"Yes?" he answered, being brought out of his thoughts.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you please come with me. It's by order of Princess Elia." he added. Barristan wondered for a bit if he should follow, before deciding that threading carefully in this place was probably the right idea.

"Very well, lead on." he answered, following the tall man down a seemingly deserted side corridor, eventually arriving at a small room. The room was bright, a large window allowing the Dornish sun to enter and shine on the small table in the middle. Near it there were four chairs. The table and the chairs were wooden and plain, not that Barristan much card for things like that. Beyond that there was very little in the room besides a small table with a jug of wine and a few glasses on it, as well as a small Dornish painting on one of the walls, depicting what seemed to be Nymeria and her thousand ships.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked neutrally.

"For summons from the Queen." the man replied.

Accepting that they were just going to have to wait for said summons, Barrsitan took up one of the chair and begun pondering in silence. What did Princess Elia want from him? Given the way he was being kept away from public eye, he could only suspect it wasn't anything good. One thing was for certain however, he would not be accepted at Sunspear as easily as he was at Dragonstone, especially if the suspicious eyes he had been given said anything, especially Ashara's, the woman he loved. Thinking of her brought back fond memories since before Rhaegar crowned Lady Lyanna and for a brief time he allowed himself to be lost in memory. He was brought back as a servant entered the room

"The Queen will see you now", he said to both him and the tall man that had been standing vigil at the door without moving a muscle. _This one would make for a fine Kingsguard._

"Thank you." he replied to the servant "Ser Barristan please follow me." he said indicating the door to Barristan, who immediately rose and complied. They walked silently through the corridors of Sunspear, only occasionally meeting a passer by who threw Barristan the same suspicious look everyone here did. Finally they stopped outside a somewhat larger door guarded by four guards, who upon seeing them opened the door to what seemed like a council chamber. Walking in he saw a large wooden table, with the chairs all on one side of the table. In the middle sat Princess Elia. On her right sat Ser Jaime and Ser Gerold, while on her left sat Prince Oberyn, Prince Doran and finally Lucerys Velaryon. The Lord of the Tides looked at him with what seemed like grim resignation, the Dornish had the same judgmental suspicious look on their faces, while Ser Gerold and Ser Jaime looked angry and arrogant respectively. He knew that Ser Jaime's arrogant look was just a façade, though a façade to what, he knew not.

"Ser Barristan." Princess Elia called "I must say it's quite surprising to see you walk in like this, when last I've heard you had bent the knee to the Usurper."

"But wasn't it you who sent Howland Reed to tell me the truth, Princess?" Barristan asked a little confused. He hadn't expected a warm welcome, but he did expect a welcome when he had been invited.

"You will address the Queen Regent as 'Your Grace'!" the Lord Commander told him immediately, a cold rage in his voice.

"Thank you, Ser Gerold." the Prin... Queen Regent begun politely "And yes Ser Barristan, it was me that made sure you knew the truth, so it is good news that you came here. Yet you still have quite a few questions to answer. Did you not bend the knee to Robert Baratheon?"

"I did, Your Grace, to my ever lasting shame." he admitted. He knew then as he had known ever since that blasted Council meeting that bending the knee to Robert Baratheon was the single biggest mistake he had ever made.

"Why?"

"Why? Several reasons if I am entirely honest. First I admit, gratitude. I had killed countless Stormlanders on the Trident, even a few of Robert's friends. And yet he sent his maester to heal me and later pardoned me. Robert was no Aerys, that much was clear." he said. He knew he should be groveling, and yet he just wanted to say the truth. "More than that, I didn't know where else to go. Yourself and Princess Rhaenys..."

"Queen Rhaenys!" Ser Gerold interrupted again.

"Yourself and _Queen_ Rhaenys were missing and no one even knew if you were alive or if so where, nobody knew King Jaehaerys even existed, and as for Viserys, he was always his father's son..." he finished solemnly

"Really?" the Kingslayer started speaking "Did he by any chance burn people alive with wildfire? Did he rape Queen Rhaella afterwards? Did he try and burn down a whole city?" he asked sarcastically, getting even more under Barristan's nerves. _The Kingslayer sat there with his betters, judging him, and he even had the audacity to mock him._

"Of course not." he replied through gritted teeth "And when exactly may I ask did Aerys try and burn down a whole city?" Aerys was mad he knew, and in due time he probably would have burned most of King's Landing, one imaginary traitor at a time, and yet the Lannister's exaggeration did provide him with an easy comeback.

"On the night of the Sack." the Kingslayer replied without hesitation "He had wildfire planted all under the city, even under the Red Keep itself. 'Let Robert be King of the ashes' I think were his exact words. I made sure that didn't happen."

 _Goog Gods, could it be true?_ Looking at the people in attendance, the only one that seemed surprised by that statement was Lord Velaryon. _They all knew about this. So this is why they accepted the Kingslayer..._

"Do you have any proof in that regard, Kingslayer?" the Lord of the Tides asked, to which Ser Jaime just shrugged.

"Why, is my word of honor not enough Lord Velaryon?" the golden Kingsguard asked sarcastically.

"Your word of honor?" he scoffed "what does one who stabs his own King in the back know of honor?"

"Would you have preferred if I stabbed him in the front?"

"Ser Jaime, enough." Queen Elia cut over him, though not unkindly, Barristan noticed, far from it "and Lord Velaryon, I'll remind you you're talking to the man that saved Rhaenys and I. As for proof, if what Ser Jaime says is true, than there will be too much proof for us to know how to deal with under King's Landing."

"Of course, Your Grace." Lord Velaryon replied, a bit bitterly.

"Now, returning to you Ser Barristan, please explain to me, when has Viserys been anything other than a normal, if a bit moody and sad, child?"

"He was always on his father's lap your grace, and he kept repeating everything he learned from him during this past year."

"So he repeated a few phrases he heard he couldn't possibly understand the true meaning of, and your conclusion is that because of that you'd rather serve the Usurper, than fulfill your vows to House Targaryen?"

Barristan didn't know what to answer at that. It was true. He had known Viserys was at Dragonstone, and yet rather than seek him out he had chosen to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon.

"Your Grace, you are right. Maybe Viserys was like his father, maybe not. Regardless I should have seeked him out. I broke my vows. However, that makes me no different from the other Kingsguard in this room." he said, looking at the two men in question. The White Bull looked positively fuming at that, while Jaime Lannister had the typical smirk on his face again.

"True, they too have broken their vows. But only when forced to chose between breaking one vow or the other. Ser Gerold sore to protect the King and me and the children, yes, and he broke that vow, but he also swore to obey my husband and to protect all the royal family, including my husband's then unborn son. Ser Jaime on the other hand was faced between his vows to protect and obey the King, and every other vow he ever took, protect the innocent, be just, protect all women and protect the Royal family. Both of them faced a hard choice. Tell me, Ser Barristan, what hard choice did you face? Were there any vows you previously made that in any way compelled you to join Robert Baratheon?"

Barristan thought long and hard at that. _Where there?_ He couldn't tell, though that small insidious voice inside his head told him that in fact he didn't want to tell, because he didn't like the answer.

"No, your Grace there was not. And for that I can only beg for a chance to prove my worth and obtain some measure of atonement as a Kingsguard."

"As a Kingsguard? I think not." the Princess replied.

"Your Grace, our vows are sworn for life! Only death relieves us of our sacred trust!"

"Whose death, Ser Barristan. Yours? Aerys's? Or maybe Robert Baratheon's? Are you a Kingsguard to Aerys, to Robert Baratheon or to Jaehaerys?"

"To Jaehaerys, Your Grace, I swear it on my life!"

"That's the thing, though I don't recall you swearing for him, and even if you would I don't think I'd accept it." the Dornishwoman replied coldly.

"Your Grace, our vows don't end with the passing of the King, they move on to his heir."

"So, you think your vow to Aerys gives you the privilege to be a Kingsguard? No, your forfeited that right when you swore to Robert Baratheon. You will serve, visibly I might add, so the world will know Barristan the Bold is on our side." she said, and in that moment Barristan realized politics were the only thing that kept him from going to the chopping block or the Watch "However you will not do so as a kingsguard, but rather as a knight. If you prove yourself, then you may be allowed back in the Kingsguard after the war is over. King Jaehaerys the First sent all the turncloak Kingsguard to the Wall, I think this is a more than merciful decision. That will be all, Ser Barristan. Areo, please see to it Ser Barristan is taken to his chambers, and make sure to remind him to give you his white cloak." she said finally, he voice that of a true Queen.

Barristan felt numb as he followed the lognaxe wielder apparently called Areo through the corridor before he reached what must have been his room. The room itself was sparse, looking much like his cell at the White Sword Tower.

"Ser Barristan." the man said his head turned towards the cloak on his shoulders.

"Of course." he said with a heavy heart, moving his hands and slowly unclasping the cloak, tucking it carefully and giving it to the man.

"Take good care of it, will you?"

"Of course." the man replied solemnly, before departing, leaving Barristan alone with his thoughts.

He could still recall when Ser Gerold had put the cloak on his shoulders. It had already been the proudest day of his life. He had ridden through the Blackfyre lines and had single handedly slayed Maelys Blackfyre, ending the war then and there. Later that day, among the cheers of the crowd he had been brought in front of Jaehaerys the Second who had promised him any boon he desired. He had asked to be appointed on the Kingsguard, given that the war had just opened a vacancy. The King had immediately agreed admits the wild cheers of the crowd, Ser Gerold Hightower had come and bade him kneel, making him swear the Kingsguard oath. He knew it by heart, how many times had he dreamed about it before then? He didn't know the answer to that question, but regardless, he recited the words perfectly and Ser Gerold himself put the white cloak on his shoulders.

Back then he was a hero, the man who had single handedly killed the last of the Blackfyres, a shinning newly made Kingsguard. And now what was he? A simple knight, alive only due to politics. Oh how he had fallen. He had failed, that was the simple truth. He had failed, Princess Elia, he had failed her children, he had failed Rhaegar. He had even failed Queen Rhaella. Thinking back at the Queen, in a way he was almost glad to be rid of the white cloak, given how heavy it had become under Aerys. He had hoped going over to Robert Baratheon might relive the burden. But it hadn't, it had only made it much much worse. Now, a chapter of his life ended, and where it went from here it seemed to be all up to him. He recalled the little Daenerys, and how he vowed to make things right by her, and in that moment he decided, he would make the most of this, he would prove himself, and he would start anew as a Kingsguard, and at least for that little girl already so much like her mother he would fulfill his vows and protect her, like he never did her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Barristan both in the story and in canon is a very flawed character. So, hopefully I did a good job pointing those our and setting up a bit of a redemption ark. Anyways, next chapter is going to be Jaime, but with a little something interesting thrown in. Say, is anyone here a Kurosawa fan?
> 
> In the meantime keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, bookmarks and comments. Please support this emotional addiction!


	17. Jaime IV

"Your Grace, are you sure this is a good idea?" Lord Lucerys Velaryon asked when he was informed why he was here. The man had probably expected some grand welcome, maybe some time to relax after the long sea voyage. Instead Oberyn Martell had brought him to this room, to decide the fate of Ser Barristan. A part of him sympathized with the old knight. After Aerys, it wasn't that hard to see Robert Baratheon as the better alternative. But then, much like Elia he supposed, he remembered little Aegon, and all sympathy for Robert Baratheon disappeared, and his sympathy for Barristan Selmy faded away considerably. "Ser Barristan came back of his own volition, and he was the one that planned the attack on the Baratheon fleet. Without him we might not have done it."

"I am aware of that, Lord Lucerys." Elia replied politely "Which is why we will hear his arguments and why he will be spared instead of sent to the chopping block immediately".

Lord Velaryon grumbled something at that, but opted to take his seat as instructed.

"Very well." she said, before turning her melodious voice towards one of the servants in the room "Please bring Areo and Ser Barristan here."

As the servant departed and they waited, Jaime took the moment to look around the table and asess the mood of the room. Lord Velaryon look displeased, though, from what Jaime had seen at him at court, that was his normal look. Prince Doran had the same intelligent, searching face, that gave away nothing besides a slight sense of intellectual superiority, while Elia 's face was one of determination. Ser Gerold on the other hand had a face of cold rage, which he had only seen before on him when he and Elia had arrived at the Tower of Joy. Since then, he and the old knight had created somewhat of a truce, based on both the revelations of Aerys's insanity, and on the fact that the two of them were the last Kingsguard with the exception of Ser Barristan. They weren't on friendly terms, though Jaime seriously doubted Ser Gerold had ever had a truer friend than duty, but nor were they fighting. It was a shaky truce, but one that seemed to hold, though if Ser Gerold's face was anything to go by, he doubted something similar would happen with Ser Barristan, unless the man had one hell of a good story.

Finally Oberyn Martell looked expectantly with a predatory look in his eyes. _What is it with him and Kingsguards?_ he couldn't help but wonder. That the man had a problem with them after the Sack was abundantly clear, especially in how he and Gerold interacted. Even now Oberyn occasionally looked at the Lord Commander as if wanting to see if he could throw him in with Ser Barristan as well. However the man also seemed to have developed a fixation with him as well, and while thank goodness he never did reference Aerys, he more than made up for it with constant references to Kingsguard celibacy, something which made him deeply uncomfortable when recalling why did he join in the first place. Oberyn must have seen that feeling of discomfort, because he pounced on it like a true viper, and he had long since lost count of all the chastity and eunuch jokes the man threw around. A part of him could only hope that the man would make Ser Barristan the next victim of his endless barbs and move away from him.

"Elia," the man in question started "just out of curiosity, has Ashara ever told you something about Boldy?"

"Oh, Gods, is he being leecherous again?" she said, peaking Jaime's and Oberyn's interest, while Ser Gerold's gaze only darkened at the mention of this apparent breach of Kingsguard chastity.

"Again?" Oberyn asked with a dangerous mirth in his voice.

"Oh, yes, he did that a lot at Harrenhal apparently, staring quite a lot, even tried scaring off Ned Stark."

"So, he does have some sense after all." Oberyn said, prompting a round of chuckles from Elia and Jaime.

At that moment however, Areo entered the large room in which they were sitting, followed closely by Barristan Selmy, putting an end to all the discussions about him and Ashara Dayne.

"Ser Barristan." Princess Elia begun, her voice and her posturing that of the perfect Queen and Princess, in a way Jaime doubted even Cersei could have pulled off "I must say it's quite surprising to see you walk in here like this, when last I've heard you had bent the knee to the Usurper." she said and Jaime couldn't help but enjoy the confused and worried look on the man's face. Normally he shouldn't be enjoying seeing a man squirm, but seeing the walking embodiment of 'holier than thou' like this was certainly an enjoyable experience. Jaime made sure to memorize a mental picture of his face for later.

"But wasn't it you who sent Howland Reed to tell me the truth, Princess?",he finally asked. However, before Elia could reply, Ser Gerold intervened.

"You will address the Queen Regent as 'Your Grace'!" he barked at Ser Barristan. _Well, no one ever accused Ser Gerold of being subtle_. The White Bull truly lived up to his namesake's subtlety and delicacy.

"Thank you, Ser Gerold." Elia, replied with that same melodious voice of hers, before it became a bit sterner, though no less beautiful as she addressed Ser Barristan "And yes, Ser Barristan, it was me that made sure you knew the truth, so it is good news that you came here. Yet you still have quite a few questions to answer. Did you not bend the knee to Robert Baratheon?" she asked getting straight to the point

"I did, Your Grace, to my ever lasting shame." the man said, and Jaime saw in his voice that it was genuine. There was actual sorrow and regret there, which did warm Jaime up a bit more to his former, or mayhaps present, brother.

"Why?" Elia asked without any judgement, similar to how she had asked him all those months ago after King's Landing why she killed Aerys. He had expected scorn and rejection, and he had gotten his fair share of it from some people in the intervening time. And yet Elia, had asked him without judgement, without reperched why had he done it, and in that moment he had felt a wave of gratitude that solidified all his loyalties to her. Deep down he wondered if he had told all the people scoffing at him the truth otherwise. He still recalled the Tower of Joy, and the rage he felt when his brothers judged him without hearing his side of the story. Then he didn't want to explain himself to them, and he wondered if he ever would have were it not for Elia. And just like then, Elia asked Ser Barristan for his side, not wanting to jump to conclusions. If possible it endeared her even more to him.

"Why?" Ser Barristan repeated thoughtfully before answering "Several reasons, if I am entirely honest. First I admit gratitude. I had killed countless Stormlands on the Trident, even a few of Robert's friends. And yet he sent his maester to heal me and later he pardoned me. Robert was no Aerys that much was clear." he said, and Jaime almost scoffed at the irony. He hated what Aerys did so much he was willing to turn his cloak to the Baratheons, and yet he was the one to save him from the Darklyns "More than that." he continued "I didn't know where else to go. Yourself and Princess Rhaenys..."

"Queen Rhaenys!" Ser Gerold made his displeasure towards his brother not so subtly known, again. _My, there sure are few Queens right now, aren't there, Elia, Rhanys and probably Cersei_ , he thought, before putting it out of his mind. He didn't want to think about Cersei or the rest of his family.

"Yourself and Queen Rhaenys were missing and no one knew if you were alive or if so where." _What did you want, a sealed letter with instructions for you to come and find us?_ "Nobody knew Prince Jaehaerys even existed, and as for Viserys, he was always his father's son." At that something snapped inside of Jaime. Till now most of Barristan's excuses were somewhat understandable, especially given what he knew of the man. But this, this wasn't. Viserys, especially after Rhaegar disappeared with the wolf girl had been the most affected by Aerys, forced to see burnings and often crying himself to sleep. To see his suffering being used like this was too much for Jaime.

"Really?" he asked with his best sarcastic voice "did he by any chance burn people alive with wildifre? Did he rape Queen Rhaella afterwards?" he asked bitterness towards all he had to see as a Kingsguard coming out "Did he try and burn down a whole city?" he asked without even thinking, and was pleased to see Barristan looking absolutely fuming at that.

"Of course not." the man replied, gritting his teeth "And when exactly, may I ask, did Aerys try and burn down a whole city?" he asked taking note of his slip about the Sack. _Oh well, might as well tell everything about it then._

"On the night of the Sack" he replied, remembering that dreadful night. "He had wildfire planted all under the city, even under the Red Keep itself. 'Let Robert be King of the ashes' I think were his exact words", _that and 'burn them all_ '. Even with his nightmares and daytime reminiscences receding, he could still hear that deranged voice repeating those words like a mantra. 'Burn them all'. "I made sure that didn't happen." was all he added

"Do you have any proof in that regard, Kingslayer?" Lord Velaryon surprised him by asking. _There it was, Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honor._ He already knew those whispers by heart, from his early days in Sunspear before most people, at Elia's insistance, accepted him. They still riled him a bit, even though the knowledge that people like Elia and Ser Gerold knew and didn't blame him did work to soothe that hurt. Still, the words still prickled him.

"Why, is my word of honor not enough?" he asked putting his best smirk on his face.

"Your word of honor..." the man scoffed in return "What does one who stab his King in the back know of honor?"

"Would you have proffered if I stabbed him in the front?" he asked, in no mood to be judged by someone loyal even beyond death to a pyromaniac.

"Ser Jaime, enough." Elia's sweet voice cut in, defusing the situation and making some of the tension drain away from Jaime "And Lord Velaryon, I'll remind you you're talking to the man that saved Rhaenys and I. As for proof, if what Ser Jaime ways is true, than there will be too much proof for us to know how to deal with under King's Landing." she said and he felt his heart soar a little at the easiness with which she acknowledged him.

"Of course, Your Grace." Lord Valryon replied as if he was forced to swallow a lemon.

"Now, returning to you, Ser Barristan, please explain to me, when has Viserys been anything other than a normal, if a bit moody and sad, child?" she asked, though Jaime felt she could easily have added abused to the list.

"He was always on his father's lap, Your Grace, and he kept repeating everything he learnt from him, ever since Rhaegar left the capital." he replied. Jaime dearly wanted to respond, reminding him how Viserys acted as if he learned anything from his father more out of fear, or how his otherwise energetic and joyful behavior became sullen and sad whenever his father entered the picture.

"So he repeated a few phrases he couldn't possibly understand the meaning of, and your conclusion is that because of that you'd rather serve the Usurper than fulfill your vows to House Targaryen?" Elia replied immediately, catching the old knight off guard. Though how could one be caught of guard by such a truth, Jaime had no idea. _His father's son, my ass._

"Your Grace, you are right. Maybe Viserys was like his father, maybe not. Regardless I should have seeked him out. I broke my vows." _Finally, he speaks some sense_ "However, that makes me no different from the other Kingsguard in this room", he continued. Nevermind. Looking around, he noticed Ser Gerold about to burst from anger from what he said, and for all he and Elia didn't like what the three Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy did, that and what Barritan did were so far removed, comparing them wasn't even funny. However before Ser Gerold could give him a proper tongue thrashing, or Jaime could think of a quick witted sarcastic reply, Elia replied to that, her voice doing wonders in calming him down, as always.

"True, they too have broken their vows. But only when forced to chose between breaking one vow or the other. Ser Gerold swore to protect the King and me and the children, yes, and he broke that vow, but he also swore to obey my husband and to protect all the Royal Family, including my husband's then unborn son. Ser Jaime on the other hand was faced between his vows to protect and obey the King, and every other vow he ever took, protect the innocent, be just, protect all women and protect the King's family. Both of them faced a hard choice. Tell me, Ser Barristan, what hard choice did you face? Were there any vows you previously made that in any way compelled you to join Robert Baratheon?" she said, as Ser Barristan's face became skewered in concentration. _Gods how hard is it to think?_

"No, your Grace, there was not. And for that I can only beg for a chance to prove my worth and obtain some measure of atonement as a Kingsguard."

"As a Kingsguard? I think now." Elia replied firmly. Seeing the man's face as he processed the words gave Jaime all the satisfaction he needed for the past conversation.

"Your Grace, our vows are sworn for life! Only death relieves us of our sacred trust!" he replied a mix of desperation and outrage in his voice.

"Whose death, Ser Barristan? Yours? Aerys's? Or maybe Robert Baratheon's? Are you a Kingsguard to Aerys, to Robert Baratheon or to Jaehaerys?"

"To Jaehaerys, Your Grace, I swear it on my life."

"That's the thing, though I don't recall you swearing for him, and even if you would I don't think I'd accept it." Elia replied, and Jaime heard a tinge of triumph in her voice. _Just as well, she deserves some revenge._ Had here been another Kingsguard there besides me, little Aegon would still be alive, and Elia would never have suffered like Rhaella did.

"Your Grace, our vows don't end with the passing of the King, they move on to his heir."

"So, you think your vow to Aerys gives you the privilege to be a Kingsguard? No, your forfeited that right when you swore to Robert Baratheon. You will serve, visibly I might add, so the world will know Barristan the Bold is on our side." she said, making it clear that was the only reason he was even allowed that much. Jaime had some sympathy for the knight, but even he knew what normally happens to deserters and oathbreakers "However you will not do so as a Kingsguard, but rather as a knight. If you prove yourself, then you may be allowed back in the Kingsguard after the war is over. King Jaehaerys the First sent all the turncloak Kingsguard to the Wall, I think this is a more than merciful decision. That will be all, Ser Barristan. Areo, please see to it Ser Barristan is taken to his chambers, and make sure to remind him to give you his white cloak." she said and in that moment he saw a look of total defeat on the knight's face. 

He knew full well, that for Barristan the Bold, being a Kingsguard was all life was about. His purpose, his pride and his shame, all derived from that one fact. Jaime had a sneaking suspicion that after being dismissed from the Kingsguard like that, he would have probably went away to anybody who would allow him to serve as one, and yet there was nowhere to go for him. Robert Baratheon would certainly not allow him to come back, and so he was stuck here, serving as a mere knight.

"Now that that's handled, my lords." Elia said, bringing him out of his thoughts, "I propose we take a short break, before we move on to the military implications of Lord Velaryon's arrival. We'll reconvene in an hour." she said, rising from her chair, followed closely by all in attendance. Jaime quickly fell in behind her, out the chamber and towards Elia's own. While he and Ser Gerold were theoretically supposed to share their duties as Kingsguards between Elia, Rhaenys and Jaehaerys, Elia was still more than a little antagonistic with him, while Ser Gerold was more than award with her.

The combined with the fact that, to everybody's relief, Rhaenys now spent enormous amounts of time with her new little brother, meant that Jaime almost exclusively guarded Elia, while Ser Gerold almost exclusively guarded the children. Not that Jaime complained. Elia was truly great to be around, making every moment brighter just by her sheer presence, and Jaime certainly didn't miss the sore back from carrying Rhaenys around playing dragon constantly. Thus, they went through the halls of Sunspear in pleasurable silence as they arrived outside Elia's rooms.

"Jaime, would you mind coming in?" she asked as she opened the door to her chambers. The days when such a request would have been odd where long since passed. Ever since King's Landing a bond had appeared between them. How could it not, when they had been through all that. Little Rhaenys had been almost unaffected, leaving only Jaime and Elia with the painful memories of Aerys's last days and the Sack. As a result of the bond between them he had also become a close advisor. _Let's just hope after this is all over she doesn't make me sit on the Small Council_ , he thought as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Elia's rooms were rich and yet tasteful, though Jaime paid it little attention.

"So, what do you think?" she asked with a small sigh.

"I think it was a good choice. Any lesser punishment and Ser Gerold would have burst a blood vessel, and we would have traded one Kingsguard for another more disloyal one." he deadpanned, prompting a small, well natured chuckle from Elia. She truly did look beautiful when she smiled like that, Jaime noticed.

"However, as you said, we need him, the value of having the Barristan the Bold on our side is too great to pass on upon. Dangling the carrot of maybe rejoining the Kingsguard after the war is a good way to make sure he stays loyal. So all in all, I think you made the best choice." he said and almost chuckled when he saw a small look of relief on her face. _Why on Earth does she value or care for my advice, I'll never know_ , Jaime thought to himself "However, just one question, do you actually plan on letting him join again after the war?" he asked curiously. After all the times Selmy had judged him for saying they should do something about Rhaella, and doing nothing about Aerys but still bending the knee to Robert Baratheon, Jaime didn't have that much sympathy for the knight. Still, leaving him outside the Kingsguard when all was over still felt a little cruel to him.

"No, because I plan on disbanding the Kingsguard." she said and Jaime for the first time in a long time found he had nothing to say. He just stood there, thinking about all the possible things it meant.

Three months ago if someone had wanted to disband the Kingsguard he would have jumped on the idea. Having to be his father's heir and marrying some insipid girl like Lysa Tully was a small enough price to pay to be away from Aerys and the shame he brought upon all those who could only stand by and do nothing. And yet things had changed. Serving in the Kingsguard had become a bit like what he thought it would have been when he swore those damned oaths. It was no longer something that filled him with shame, but occasionally with pride. He was a warrior, and it was a good place for a warrior to be. Slaying Corbray alone had given him more satisfaction than all the time serving under Aerys alone. And then there were Rhaenys and Elia. In the midst of all the sorrow and worry, the little dragon had been a source of constant joy and constant backpains. He could not help but care deeply for the little girl, and thank the Gods every so often for allowing him to save her. Then there was Elia, who had become his closest companion and confidant, more than even Tyrion or Addam back at home. When faced with what he would want, he did not know.

"Jaime?" he heard Elia say, and he saw she was far closer now, looking at him with worry with her big brown eyes, made all the bigger by the proximity. It was a pleasant sight, and yet one that still made him a bit awkward, so he quickly broke eyes contact before replying.

"Oh, I'm sorry, got lost in my thoughts about what you said. Why, though?" he asked.

"Because, all the Kingsguard did of late was sit around and protect a mad man, and the only one who actually did something good, was you Jaime, and only because you broke your vows as a Kingsguard."

"But it was due to my Kingsguard vows that I protected you." Jaime pointed out.

"Was it really?" she asked, and deep down he knew the answer was no. He didn't rush to defend them because of his vows as a Kingsguard, when he stabbed Aerys those meant little and less to him. It was due to the promise he had made Rhaegar before he departed to the Trident that he remembered to go and save them. "Or was it because you are a truly honorable and decent person?" she said, and she couldn't help but look back into those eyes that threatened to engulf him, trying to see any hint of mockery in there. And yet he found none.

"I'm the Kingslayer, remember? What honor or decency is there to the man that thrust his sword in his King's back?" he said, echoing the whispering he had heard for a long time in Sunspear, and which he had no doubt he would hear for the rest of his life.

"Don't say that!" she said with a hint of anger and outrage "And you are. Honorable and decent. I've seen how much you care about being seen as an honorable Kingsguard, no matter how much you try to hide it beneath that arrogant smirk you so often plaster on your face." she said with a small smile "And yet you gave all that away, you broke every vow to kill Aerys and do what was right. You saved me and Rhaenys from your father's men, you became an outlaw. You are a good man, Jaime, no matter how much others, and sometimes you too, deny it." she said coming even closer and looking him straight in the eye, which given Jaime was half a head taller and their faces were les than a few feet apart, was pretty impressive.

"I... Thank you." he simply said, just looking at her, as they both quietly looking at each other, emerald eyes on brown, almost like a spell.

Jaime was about to break it, when, much to his surprise, Elia advanced and before Jaime even knew what was happening, she put her arms around her neck and was kissing him fully on the lips. Jaime for a moment did nothing, surprised at the sudden turn of events, before he responded in kind, placing his arms around her back, savoring the feel of it. She tasted wonderfully, a sweetness that could only come from oranges, with a small pleasant sting and a unique taste that vaguely reminded Jaime of hazelnut. It was a blissful madness, which Jaime didn't want to end as their lips moved in harmony. However, as they broke contact, and Jaime stared into those beautiful brown eyes, a sudden panic gripped him. _This is wrong_ , he quickly though, and he saw a hateful glair from a face so much like his in that moment.

"Elia..." he said, not knowing what else to say, before quickly turning around and fleeing, trying to ignore the hurt look on her face as he bolted out the door.

He spent the next hour before the meeting was to resume walking the hallways of Sunspear, his mind reeling from what had happened. Elia... no not Elia, the Princess, the Queen Regent. Gods, since when did I start calling her Elia? But then again she calls me Jaime too, a voice in his head said to him. Regardless, she had kissed him. Actually came to him and kissed him. A whirlwind of emotions went through Jaime's mind. He remembered Cersei, saying they would be each other's forever, but as he pictured her face, with her flowing blond hair and emerald eyes, the image in his mind, changed to one with black raven hair and sweet brown eyes. He thought about Elia's hurt face as he fled, and his heart ached at that. _Gods, when did this happen?_ , he asked himself as he continued going through the hallways. He needed time to think in peace he decided, somehow without picturing Elia's beautiful face.

Unfortunately there was still the blasted meeting to discuss war plans. He arrived in the room first and took his seat, trying to calm himself for the upcoming meeting. Soon enough the other people started trickling in, first Ser Gerold, then Prince Doran, Lucerys Velaryon. Then Oberyn Martell entered the room, and threw Jaime a suspicious look. _Gods, for how long did he know? Well, I guess that explains the chastity jokes_ , he thought to himself, throwing the man a small glare. Finally Elia herself entered, looking as royal and elegant as ever, but Jaime noticed a bit sadly she was looking anywhere but at him. Oberyn seemed to notice that too, if the way he looked at Jaime said anything. _Great, now not only did I hurt Elia, but the Red Viper is liable to poison me_ , he thought darkly.

"Now, that we're assembled my lords, it seems to me the arrival of the Royal Fleet opens up several opportunities. Lord Velaryon, mind giving all of us a reminder of the status of our fleets and the Baratheon ones?"

"Not at all, Your Grace." the man replied a bit stiffly, though more relaxed than before. He's in his element now, Jaime thought "Of the one hundred and fifty ships we had before the attack on King's Landing, we lost thirty in some form or another in the storm after wards, leaving us with one hundred and twenty capable of floating. We left the forty most damaged to heal and repair at Dragonstone and set up a blockade, leaving us with eighty intact ones which we brought here. The Gullet is currently blockaded, and the Baratheon fleet and ship building capabilities are now basically non existent. It will take a long time for them to be able to build a fleet in the Narrow Sea, while the Lannister fleet is unlikely to sail this way, not with the threat of the Ironborn. This leaves the eighty ships we have brought here unengaged in in complete possession of the Narrow Sea and the Coast of Dorne. At least, while the Redwynes are neutral." he added in.

"They should be, for now at least." Elia replied "which leaves us with eighty free ships. What are we going to do with them?"

"We could blockade or maybe take the Stepstones." Ser Gerold proposed.

"And gain what?" Prince Oberyn replied "The only ports through which the Baratheons can get anything in are the narrow sea Crownlands ports, all of which are either blockaded or in our hands, or through Gulltown, which last we heard had risen up in rebellion on our side." he finished, referencing the raven they had received recently. It seemed as if their plan of plunging the Vale into a civil war had worked out very well, with the Waynwoods, Royce and Graftons all declaring themselves Lord Paramount, as well as the Steward of the Vale who had done the same and had captured the Eyrie and the Bloody gate for good measure.

"I say we use them offensively." Prince Oberyn butted in "For our current plan we don't need all the seventeen thousand spears we have raised throughout Dorne. I say we take the five thousand we currently have at Ghost Hill, move our fleet there to allow them to board and then attack."

"And where do you think we should attack?" Elia asked.

"The Rainwood. Our first attack should be towards Eastermont. It's an island so the Baratheons won't be able to take it back, and it's close enough to the Rainwood to allow us to raid it to our hearts content."

"And in doing so striking at Robert Baratheon's home without having to engage him." Elia finished for him.

"Precisely." Oberyn finished with a predatory grin.

"It's a good plan." Doran conceded "Lord Velaryon, what do you think?"

"Aye, I say we could easily do it. My ships can depart within two days. Some of our larger drommonds have catapults, so we should be able to storm Eastermont quite easily, and from there ferrying troops will be easy. However, there would be the problem of food. Do we have the food to sustain such an offensive?"

"We have, my lord." Ser Gerold replied "My nephew has sworn to support us. The first shipments of food came alongside me, so our stores here are filled to the brim. We can expect the next shipment in a fortnight I am told."

"Very well, in that case, I say we do it." Elia said finally "Though we need to decide who shall be in command. Lord Velaryon will obviously be in command of the naval forces, while the land forces..."

"I'll do it." Jaime said over her. He needed time away from her, to allow him to clear his head and think straight.

"Very well." she replied a little coldly, and he tried his best to ignore the ache inside him at her coldness as well as the glare both Elia and Oberyn threw him. _It's all for the best_ , he tried to say to himself. _But if it is, why do I fell so bad about it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, the ship has left harbor. However, don't expect things to start happening too soon. Also, I did try and get a little Rashomon effect going, hope it was alright. Anyway, next time we shall visit Winterfell and see Catelyn trying to get a grip on the ever growing insanity going on there.
> 
> Until then, keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	18. Catelyn III

Cat was sitting on the battlements as the Bolton levies arrived outside Winterfell. They made an impressive site, that was for sure, near and around three thousand men, marching in formation. Most of them were pikemen, she knew, a bit over two thousand, with the rest being half archers and half cavalry. Out of all the bannermen that had kept faith, Catelyn know that the Boltons were the most powerful, followed by the Manderlys and the Glovers. So the sight of the three thousand men marching in formation was a soothing one in some regards, as it doubled the number of men currently in Winterfell. However it was equally as unsettling, a grim reminder of the war she now found herself in.

"My lady, the war council..." came the voice of Jory Cassel, the captain of the guards, from behind her.

"The war council can wait on my pleasure." she replied curtly. She was the Lady of Winterfell and Regent of the North now, and if those men were going to take offense at being made to wait, Catelyn had no problems, not after their combined failures that had led to the North entering in a state of war. Roose Bolton had been the one to suggest capturing Benjen so that nothing like this could happen, but he had botched it up so thoroughly, he just made matters a thousand times worse, and gave her brother by law a reason to raise up arms. Then, there was Maester Luwin, who had allowed him to send ravens to all the major houses of the North without batting an eye, or asking a single question. Lord Bolton had advised stripping him of his chain for that, however, seeing as the man was sworn to obey and he had answered to her brother by law for over a year, she had decided to be lenient. There was also the fact that in times such as these she could hardly wait for the Citadel to send another Maester, not when there was a war going on. However all of that didn't mean she still didn't have a problem with the man and what he did. She was the Regent of the North, if he saw something so obviously fishy he should have gone to her. 

Finally there was Rodrick Cassel, the master at arms, who alongside Lord Bolton had failed to apprehend her brother by law, losing his trail in the Wolfswood. Here too Lord Bolton had advised removing him from his position, but eventually she had decided against that, and that decision had paid off, as he had shown remarkable skill in taking the roughly two thousand levies sworn to Winterfell directly and turning them from a disorganized rabble into a fighting force. However as she saw the disciplined Bolton force as it stopped outside Wintertown and begun to set up camp, she realized there was still a lot to be done with their own levies. At an order, the Bolton soldiers quickly stopped and orderly begun moving in their separate directions. Soon, pieces of cloth appeared in the men's hands, no doubt starting to set up tents.

Catelyn had never been one for admiring soldiers, or really anything related to warfare, be it tourneys, sword or armor. That had always been Brandon's or her uncle's, where the latter had recently became shadowed by Edmure, wanting to know all there is about warfare, idolizing their uncle. Still, Cat couldn't say she didn't somewhat find the display of discipline and organization admirable. So she sat on the battlements and watched in silence, as the tents started going up and an out perimeter was established. She would have probably sat around a bit more, however by that point, the Northern spring cold was starting to get to her, and she couldn't delay the war council forever. So with one last look, she turned around and started walking towards the main keep.

Outside the room where the war council was being held, there were two guards sitting in front of the door. One of them she recognized as a stocky bearded man by the name of Hullen, though she couldn't recognize the other. She had made progress in remembering the names of some of the Household Guard, particularly the more vocal and outspoken, however she could still only remember the name of around half of them.

"My lady." they both said in unison as the unnamed man opened the door. Catelyn gave both a quick nod, before entering the rooms. The room, much like Winterfell itself was bleak and cold, colder than the rest of the castle in fact, Luwin said. Apparently it had been used by the Kings of Winter for their own council meetings, and the cold was supposed to be a reminder to all the rulers to stay sharp and focused. Catelyn just found it strange and annoying. In the middle of the room, on a long table, stood the three other men that currently made up the Winterfell war council, though no doubt that number would expand as more prominent nobles would come. The seat at the head of the table was empty, no doubt waiting for her. On the left side of the empty seat stood, Maester Luwin and the Rodrick Cassel, with the maester absent mindedly fiddling around with his chain, with the master at arms was scanning the walls. On the right side of the chair however stood Roose Bolton, his stance straight, his eyes focusing on her the moment she entered the room. As always she felt slightly unnerved by those pale grey eyes, however she ignored that, and moved to take her seat

"My lords, apologies for the delay." she said diplomatically as she moved her chair and the three men stood up.

"We are here to serve, my lady." Roose Bolton replied smoothly, in that soft almost whispery voice of his "It is a pleasure to await your coming."

"Thank you, Lord Bolton. Please be seated." she said towards the three men, who quickly took their seats "You too, Jory." she added to the captain of the guards.

"Me, my lady?" the man asked slightly puzzled.

"Yes, you Jory." she answered a bit more kindly. Maybe it was due to the time she had spent with him, or maybe it was the fact that the young Captain of the Guards seemed to dot on little Robb, but the man had quickly gained her trust. "You are the captain of the guards, therefore I have decided you will be in charge of the defense of Winterfell. You will need to make sure the walls are manned and ready for an assault."

"I... thank you, my lady." he finally replied, before taking the seat besides his uncle Rodrick, followed by her.

"So, my lady, do you expect Benjen to attack Winterfell?" Rodrick Cassel asked curiously.

"I must admit I do not know. He could or he could not. Regardless we need to take steps to make sure that if he does he will not take this castle. As long as we hold Winterfell, we hold the North." she said firmly. She did not know that much of war, or even the North, the latter being a sore point for her, but she knew the importance of holding the Stark ancestral castle and the main seat of the North, not only strategically speaking but politically too. "For now we have no idea what my brother by law might do, or even where he is. Any news on that?" she asked pointedly. The fact that her brother by law had called in a rebellion wasn't bad enough apparently, they also had no idea where he was. Judging by him going into the Wolfswood, the best guess they had at the moment was that he was at Ironwrath, annoyingly also one of the first places to declare for him.

"Sadly no, my lady." Maester Luwin replied. _It was a disappointment, but it was expected_ , Catelyn thought.

"And what do we know of his supporters?" she asked no one in particular.

It was Roose Bolton that replied first.

"Several scouts from the Dreadfort came before the main body of my levies. It appears that both the Umbers and the Karstarks are still summoning their levies. being so far North the news reached them last, and with how vast their lands are, it will take them time to marshal their full strength. For now it seems the only support Benjen Stark has are the Forresters. That is why I say we take the six thousand men we currently have and attack."

"What about the Moutnain Clans?" Rodrick Cassel asked.

"We still do not know." Maester Luwin replied "We sent riders to them, but Benjen Stark does have the lead in that regard. Not to mention, much like the Umbers and Karstarks, they have a deep Northern pride about them, and the idea of supporting a King from the North, as the letter said, would no doubt appeal to them." Catelyn didn't really know anything about the Mountain Clans, and they weren't on any map as far as she knew. From what she had gathered they were little more than wildlings, though apparently suggesting something like that was a grave insult to them.

"Which is why, I strongly urge to march as soon as possible." Roose Bolton continued. "We need to attack before your brother by law managed to consolidate his forces. My lady, I ask of you, give me command of my own forces, the Glovers and the Manderlys. Together we will be able to crush and capture Benjen Stark within a fortnight of leaving."

"No, my lord. We have a good defensive position here. We are going to let my brother in law come to us. The number difference isn't high enough for us to risk trekking into enemy lands. Master Luwin, remind us, what forces can we expect my brother in law to have?"

"It depends my lady. So far only the Umbers, Karstarks, Forresters and Mormonts are openly on his side, which totals around seven and a half thousand men. However, as we said it is very likely the mountain clans will side with him, which should bring his total amount of forces to ten thousand."

"And our own forces?" she asked. She already knew most of these numbers, however it seemed appropriate to remind them to everybody.

"As of the arrival of Lord Bolton's levies, we have six thousand men here at Winterfell." the maester said

"My outriders report that the Glover levies are halfway here, as are the Manderlys and all their satellite houses, the Lockes, Flints of Widows Watch and more" Rodrick Cassel added "Lord Glover has with him a little under two thousand men, while Manderly brings a host of another three thousand."

"Which means, my lords, for now, all we have are one and ten thousand at best, though given the rough edges more like ten thousands. Almost the same as my brother in law. No, my lords, we will not risk a battle when there is no need, when the numbers are basically even. Especially when there are several still neutral houses that could tip the balance. Maester Luwin, any news concerning that?"

"No, my lady, the Hornwoods are still reporting outlaw problems preventing them from bringing their levies here, while the Dustins and Ryswells are still reporting Ironborn raids. Finally the Reeds are yet to reply to anything."

"If I may, my lady, my wife is Bethany Ryswell, Lord Ryswells daughter and Barbrey Dustin's sister. I find it doubtful that they would ever take up arms against us." Roose Bolton said smoothly.

"Barbrey Dustin might, after what happened with her and Brandon." Rodrick Cassel replied with a gruff dark chuckle.

That peaked her interest. What did Barbrey Dustin have to do with her Brandon?

"What happened with her and Brandon?" she asked curiously.

"I can answer that, my lady. My wife told me quite a lot about it." Lord Bolton replied quickly "Apparently her sister was very much infatuated with your former betrothed and was more than heartbroken when he turned her down." he said causing a small award silence, only interrupted by Ser Rodrick coughing. _Turned her down for what? For marriage or for more sordid matters?_ she wanted to ask. Yet she didn't. It didn't matter. Bran, her Bran had obviously been the gentleman she knew him to be and turned her down. How such a fine man came from such a desolate place like the North, she didn't know.

She still remembered how afraid she had been when told she was going to marry the heir of the North, how all her Septa's stories about the first men came back to him. She had expected to meet little more than a wildling. It had taken her father and uncle working together to convince her to write to him. She had eventually buckled and done so, and by the time she actually met him, she was no longer so afraid, though still weary of the match. However, meeting him, all her fears went away, and all she could do was wait for the moment they would finally marry. And then Lyanna Stark went away with Rhaegar Targaryen, resulting in Brandon dying. Oh how she had wept then. It still amazed her how she had held back her tears when she was forced to marry his younger brother. Still, the young man was dutiful and kind, and she suspected one day she might actually have cared for him. Only that chance too was taken away by the folly and shame of Lyanna Star and Rhaegar Targaryen.

Still even for all the bad memories, the thought of Brandon been chased by her and him protecting her honor against a woman such as Barbrey Dustin filled her with a bitter joy at the thought of what could have been had Lyanna Stark not fled with Rhaegar and had Jaehaerys Targaryen never been born. She knew it wasn't really right, but she couldn't help but feel resentful of the boy, who's existence had brought her so much misery. How her brother by law could start a war for him, Catelyn had no idea. Still, there was little Cat could do about him, beyond standing and fighting. Finally she asked.

"Do you think it would be enough to turn them against us?" Catelyn finally asked.

"No, I don't think, my lady." Roose Bolton answered "If they haven't declared for young Benjen yet, I doubt they will, not with their ties to me. Furthermore, while the threat of the Ironborn is vastly exaggerated, it is still there."

"So, this leaves us where we begun, with two roughly equal hosts and a bunch of neutrals unlikely to join in." she said firmly "Therefore, the best course of action is to sit and wait for the Riverlands." she said as her heart gained a little more warmth at the though. The moment she had sent the raven to her father, he had begun mustering a force to sent to the North. That force would be the deciding factor of the war she knew. Not only would it allow them to completely overpower her brother by law, but, with her uncle having escaped the treachery of Nestor Royce in the Vale, it would be commanded by one of the best soldiers alive.

Commanders matter almost as much as the size of the host, that was a common thought in Westeros, and Catelyn, when thinking of Robert's Rebellion couldn't help but agree. One of her major problems currently was the lack of proper commanders. Of the men on her side, only Roose Bolton had any experience from the war, and even that was leading the rearguard of the Northern forces. Her brother by law on the other side had two very experiences commanders, Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark, who had commanded the Northern vanguard and cavalry respectively in the war. Therefore in terms of commanders they were badly outmatched, that was until her uncle came. Nobody could match the fabled Blackfish. It was one of the many reasons why she thought bunkering down was a good idea. Her uncle would bring not only men, but a proper commander.

"Now, are there any more military matters to discuss?" she asked.

"There would be some logistical problems with my troops, but I'm sure Maester Luwin and I can solve them on our own." Roose Bolton said.

"Very well, make sure to come to me if there are any problems. Now, anything else?" she asked, to which she got only silence "Anything else, besides the army?" she asked again.

"Yes, my lady." Maester Luwin replied quickly "Two of them to be precise. First there remains the question of dealing with young Benjen outside the war. Maybe we could negotiate."

"We will not." she cut him off "I already know what she will want no matter what. Us fighting for the Targaryens. I will not fight for the bastard whose existence led to the deaths of both my betrothed and my husband. No, there will be no negotiations." she finished firmly.

"Very well. In that case might I ask what will we do should he be defeated?"

"The punishment for treason is death." Roose Bolton replied immediately "Alternatively he could join the Nights Watch, but that is it. To do anything less would be seen as weak."

Catelyn pondered at that.

"I am not sure." she begun evenly "However I will do my best not to start my reign off shedding the blood of my kin by marriage. If possible I will allow him to go into exile on pain of death." she said, giving a warning look to any who might oppose her at that. None did. "And the other matter Maester Luwin?"

"The septons and workers you called for from Lord Manderly, my lady, they have finally arrive looking to begin working towards a sept." he said, making Catelyn want to groan.

"Send them away, discreetly. Tell them we don't have the money right now, or something, but make them leave, and make them leave quietly." she said as firmly as possible.

"My lady, are you sure that is such a good idea?" Roose Bolton asked quietly "I don't think we should abandon that plan. It would serve quiet well as a first step to bring the North and the South together."

"It would, Lord Bolton, where we not at war. Making reform in times of peace is a great idea. Doing in times of war only strengthens our enemies."

"Maybe." the Lord of the Dreadfort admitted "But war is also a good place to make reforms as all the biggest opponents of those reforms are already at war with you. Make this another matter of the war, and you will win a great deal of support and stability for any future reforms."

"First we must win this war, Lord Bolton. I will not give more Lords a cause to join up with my brother in law." She was already seen as Southron. Normally that would not be that big a problem, and being seen as even more Southron would hardly matter. But this was war, and she needed to be seen as a Northener, however much she despised that and however much it pained her to have only the tree for people to worship in Winterfell.

"Very wise of you my lady." Lord Bolton replied, and with that the conversation was over.

"Now, is there anything else?"

"No, my lady." they all replied in unison, prompting her to rise and walk out the room, followed by everyone else. Once outside, she once again thought of the coming storm, and how quickly things had degenerated. A few fortnights ago she had wanted to uproot the world, now she was engaged in a fight for survival. As the forces gathered, she could only wait and hope for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who can't tell this chapter is inspired by Cersei IV in AFFC, because Cersei and Catelyn have a lot of very interesting parallels (Catelyn is basically Cersei if she wasn't insane and possessed a brain) and because it's my favorite chapter in AFFC. Also, because wanted to show the differences and Catelyn actually doing a decent job at reigning in the madness, albeit a bit too late.
> 
> Anyways, next time, we have a Nestor Royce POV to see just how bas things are in the Vale. Spoiler alert, it's bad. However, quick announcement, due to time pressures, for the following week I will be updating once every 3 days as opposed to 2. I will go back to my normal schedule after the week, but I have a lot of stuff on my plate now, and I really don't want to exhaust my chapter stockpile.
> 
> In the meantime, keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	19. Nestor I

Nestor put down the scroll in frustration. _Damn my cousin!_ , he thought to himself. It was a thought he had been having ever since he was a child, but now he felt it more than ever. His cousin had inherited Runestone, while he hadn't even inherited a turnip. Yohn's daughter, even before this war begun, despite being a few years old was courted by the entirety of the Vale, wishing to tie their heirs to the noble blood of house Arryn. And yet, her Myranda, having the exact same noble blood hadn't even been asked in marriage by a hedge knight. _All that simply because the bastard's father had been born before mine own._ And for that everybody bent over backwards, while treating Nestor like nothing more than a hedge knight, when in fact while Yohn had inherited everything he ever owned, Nestor had had to work for every position and every advancement, first as keeper of the Gates of the Moon, than as first steward, and now, on the cusp of becoming Lord Paramount of the Vale.

The first part of his plan in that regard had went almost perfectly. As soon as the raven of Jon Arryn's trial and death came, he saw the opportunity and pounced on it. First by sending some men up the Giant's Lance to secure the Eyrie, and concurrently by sending the bulk of his garrison to take the Bloody Gate. It had worked almost perfectly. The Eyrie had been secured with no losses and Lysa Tully had been captured. The bloody gate, given the fact that his men were attacking from the wrong side and had the element of surprise, had fallen almost bloodlessly, with most of the garrison captured and then turning cloak. The only failure was that the Blackfish had escaped, much to Nestor's disappointment. He would have been a valuable hostage, he knew. He had hoped to leverage the two Tullys into gaining Hoster Tully's support in this war, and maybe he would have, had he captured the Blackfish. Now, with just Lysa Tully, all his ravens to Hoster Tully went unanswered. 

However, that right now was the least of his problems. The biggest one was his cousin. Wishing he could throttle him for trying to take even this away, Nestor took a large, calming breath, trying to steady himself. The logical side of him kept telling him it was no use brooding and that he should get to work towards defeating his cousin. That same side of him however also said that defeating him had just become a lot harder, to the point that he failed to see a way to win. He needed Hoster Tully's help if he was to outnumber his cousin now. He would need to write another letter, with a better offer.

For a brief moment he strongly considered finding a way to employ the mountain clans. It wouldn't be the worst idea, and being blood of the First men, Nestor fancied he'd have a better chance than most, but when he thought of the damage being seen associating with the Clans would do he thought better of it. Especially given how unlikely it was to gain their allegiance. He did made a note in his head however to open up the Blood Gate should he lose. Or at least tell the garrison commander to try and destroy the castle if all was lost. _If Yohn wants to rule the Vale, he can be my guest in dealing with those savages on the wrong side of the Bloody Gate._ Still that was just a thought and if it ever came to that he knew it would be too late for him. _No use thinking about it now, then_ , he told himself, before calling for a servant, notifying him to get the lords. _Might as well break the news to them now, maybe one of them has some idea_ , though he doubted anyone of them would.

A few moment later, Lords Belmore, Corbray and Coldwater entered the room. _My lords_ , he thought mockingly. _Between all of use we barely have three thousand men here, three and a half thousand if we add the five hundred men sent by Lord Lynderly's regent. By now my cousin must have around ten._ Still, that was what he had and he was going to make the best of it. He still held the high ground, holding the Eyrie and all of the Mountains to the North of it. However by now his cousin held the actual Vale of Arryn with all it's plains. Nestor held the Eyrie, the traditional and political heart of the Vale, but his cousin held Gulltown and the actual Vale, the economic and population heart of the kingdom. And he had the bigger army.

"Come, my lords, settle down." he said pointing at the chairs in his solar. Benedar Belmore was the first man to take a seat. The man was young and only had the slightest inkling of a belly. His red beard was short and clean, while his eyes were were brown, and observant. The man, Nestor knew, was also corrupt to the bones. Nestor wasn't one to judge people on it, he too had dabbled in various actions some might consider corrupt. Doubling the Gates of the Moon garrison had been one of those things, done to secure the garrison's loyalty with the knowledge that anyone else would shrink it down to regulars size. That particular choice had served Nestor well, as it ensured both a loyal garrison and a large one for his takeover. However, even given that, Lord Belmore's reputation of extorting anyone foolish enough to involve himself in trade up the river until Strongsong was well known.

After him sat Lyonel Corbray. The man had a long serious face, with dark hair and grey eyes. Initially Nestor had expected getting his support to be a hard bargain given his brother's death, as Nestor had no intention of joining the war against the Dornish. However much to his surprise the only demand from him was getting back Lady Forlorn from the Dornish, which he was sure could be arranged through diplomacy. Finally there was the ironically named Royce Coldwater, who took his seat last. Unlike the other two he was a skinny man, with a slightly sickly look about him, though Nestor knew that ironically he was the best fighter out of all of them, having served with distinction in the rebellion.

"Apparently," he said giving the raven, which Belmore took first "my cousin has defeated the Waynwoods and Redforts in decisive battle. Several hours after that, a combined Melcom and Hunter host that had been waiting near by came and joined up with him. By the current headcount, Yohn has around ten thousand men now. No doubt he will soon be marching this way." he said as the three men stood there, Belmore reading the raven while the other two were just watching him. Eventually, Belmore gave it to Corbray, who, after reading it, gave it to Coldwater. None of them said a word during this time. Finally after Colwater put the raven scroll down, Nestor decided it was time to speak.

"So, my lords, what do we do from here?" he asked, eager to hear any ideas. He certainly didn't have any, then again, he didn't have any military experience.

Silence reigned for a while before Royce Coldwater spoke

"This changes everything." he begun carefully before he begun to pick up pace a bit, more sure of himself "We were gambling that we can wait and grow stronger while our enemies battle each other and become weaker. Yohn Royce's victory throws that out the window. He now has more legitimacy due to his victories and the bigger army. Time is no longer on our side. He now has the Gulltown and all the food producing and properly populated areas. In time he will grow richer and he will be able to recruit more men, while we will bleed our coffers and exhaust our manpower. Furthermore, if we wait until the war in the rest of Westeros ends, any outsiders will side with you cousin, my Lord. For now we hold the Bloody Gate, but once the war is over the winner could ferry troops through Gulltown. And it's not hard to guess who they will support."

"Alright, we get it, time is not in our favor, what do you propose?"

"We need to defeat your cousin, the sooner the better. In this we do have advantages. He must surely be arrogant right now, outnumbering us almost three to one. I say we pretend to hole up in the Gates of the Moon, let him come to us. When he is within a day's ride we do a night attack and kill him in his camp."

"Not the worst plan." Nestor conceded "However, arrogant or not, my cousin is an experienced warrior and he must know we can't defeat him in open field. He would be expecting something like that. A night attack in those circumstances is too much of a risk."

"How about we turn the time factor against him?" Belmore asked.

"And how do you propose we do that my lord?" he asked back.

"As Lord Royce pointed out, Lord Royce," the man begun, thinking himself funny. Nestor did his best not to roll his eyes, while Lord Coldwater released a subtle long suffering sigh. "sits on most of the food producing parts of the Vale, while we sit on the mountains. And while the mountains do give us less they are also easier to defend. I say we don't engage him, instead send out riders, in groups, with orders to burn the Vale from the Eyrie to Gulltown. Thus the more time passes the people and nobles under Yohn Royce will suffer and he will not be able to retaliate. After all who can burn a mountain?"

"Not the worst idea." Nestor admitted "But it still doesn't give us any means to defeat my cousin. And all the things Lord Coldwater said are still true. As long as my cousin has the bigger army and controls every important spot except the Eyrie, nobody will defect, not even if we burn every last field and piece of food between here and Gulltown. As long as he's winning, no amount of raiding will make his forces shatter, or make his ten thousand men any smaller. We need a victory my lords. It doesn't have to be a battle, but it needs to be something that puts doubt into his supporters minds. So what will that be?"

"Why not face him in battle?" Lyonel Corbray finally interjected.

"Because," he begun with the voice of someone speaking to an idiot, because in that moment, he was "we have three thousand men, they have ten thousand. We would be a annihilated."

"If we fight in the open field, yes we would," he replied "however there are a few places where we wouldn't. As we said before, we control the North, they control the South. If we were to raid the lands Yohn Royce controls, he would have to retaliate somehow. The best target would be the Snakewood valley, where Strongsong, Heart's Home and, well Snakewood, are all located. He can't storm the Eyrie, so those are the only lands of his enemies he could attack in retaliation. Now we could naturally just garrison our castles and ensure Yohn Royce would be lucky to lose half his army taking even one. However that would allow him to respond to our raiding in kind, though he couldn't do even nearly as much damage as we could."

"So far this is just Lord Belmore's plan, just detailing a bit." he pointed out.

"True, because we are not going to do that." he replied confidently "There are only two ways to access the Snakwood valley on foot. Either through the Giant's pass behind the Giant's Lance or through the Sea Road that goes through Old Anchor and Longbow Hall and ends at Heart's Home. We fight there I say. The Giant's Pass is easily defendable, it's a pass after all, not to mention, Royce would have to leave a sizable force behind if he attempted to cross there to make sure the Gates of the Moon garrison doesn't take him from behind."

"And the Sea Road?" he asked, his curiosity peaked. _If I can bleed Yohn's nose, then maybe I can win this_ , he thought.

"There's a place, at the border between my lands and the Hunter lands. For a pretty long portion the road has mountain cliff on one side, and sea cliffs on the other side. There's a bend in the road there, where a force holding the road could be protected by the walls of the bend from arrows. Placed there, three hundred good men could hold hundreds of thousands."

"More like three hundred good men, and a thousand archers and reserves." Lord Coldwater replied.

"Be that as it may, we can hold that point against a large army." Corbray replied "And if we manage to defeat Royce, suddenly those raids will be a lot more impactful, and soon people will start to wonder if they're on the winning side after all."

"Sounds like a good plan" he finally conceded, and at that the three lords soon begun discussing the details. Nestor mostly fazed out lost in thought.

 _It is better than where I was this morning._ Now they had a plan that could work. He wasn't a fool, it was risky, if his cousin managed swing around through a goat track or something they'd lose, but he trusted his lords to actually know their own lands. _Here lies the chance of victory_ , he thought to himself.

It seemed appropriate, one last confrontation to deal with his cousin. Might and brawl versus cunning. Just like it has always been with us. His cousin always had everything given to him, while he had always had to use his brain to gain everything. His cousin had Runestone, their family's iconic bronze armor, and no doubt had his foolish ancestor not lost it in the Dragonpit, he would have have had Lamentation too. _And yet, I will defeat you all the same, because I am the one worthy of all of those Yohn._

He mostly phased out of the following discussions as the three lords discussed how to position the troops and what numbers they could squeeze out of the nearly garrison, or what they could arm twist from the Lynderly, or the houses of the Fingers, maybe even the Sisters. It must have been half an hour of that when a knock was heard on his door, and his new squire, Lucas Corbray entered

"What it is it lad?" he asked, happy for a distraction.

"My lord, the guards have apprehended a man outside our gates. Claims he's here to speak to you."

"Did he mention his name or on who's behalf?" he asked curious. _This could be a ploy, then again it could be something actually useful_ , he thought.

"He did not, my lord, only said it's urgent to see you." his squire answered. _Alright, this is definitely interesting._ He couldn't yet know if this was going to be something good or bad, but it was going to be something alright.

"Have you checked him for weapons, poisons and the like?" he asked

"Yes my lord, the guards have done so, they only found a knife and a sword, both in plain sight. However, I might add, his accent sounded very Gulltown." the squire added.

 _Getting ever more interesting_ , he thought. Might be a survivor wanting to pledge his sword to my cause. So far none of the survivors from either the Graftons or the Waynwoods and Redfords had come, though given he had just received the raven, he couldn't say he was surprised by that. _Maybe this is the beginning of something interesting._ The Gods only knew he needed men. Corbray's and Coldwater's plan had definite potential, but even then their numbers were low. Every extra man counts, he knew, and he doubted this one came alone, if he wanted to talk to him. _Maybe he was sent as an emissary for a larger group_ , he thought with hope.

"Very well, sent him in with two guards." he told his squire who quickly did as he was commanded and left the room. After a short while he returned, accompanied by two guard behind him, with a man between him. _Well, let's see what we have here_ , he thought as the man was brought forward. Straight away however, just from looking at him he could see one thing was obvious. The man was an Arryn if he ever saw one. Tall build, sandy blind hair, and blue eyes, it was all there. That could only mean he's an Arryn of Gulltown. Looking around he noticed by their looks that his lords saw that too. Suddenly his previous theory was becoming more valid. _Having an Arryn here would be a great legitimacy image, however, how could I best use him?_ He decided to talk to the man before deciding on that though.

"So, you wanted to talk. Talk. First off who are you? Second off why are you here?" he begun, putting on his best lordly voice.

"My name is Triston Arryn of Gulltown, my lord." _Of course he is, and now for the hopefully good bit._ "As for the second question, I come on the orders of Lord Petyr Baelish."

Petyr Baelish. He knew that name. That was the one his cousin put in charge of Gulltown. He had to admit, when he first read about it, he had been surprised by this unusual case of his cousin doing something truly smart. Not only did he place someone who was now indebted and personally loyal to him for granting him Gulltown, not only was he a native and thus likely to govern in good order, especially in a place like Gulltown that cared little for birth, but he was someone that could easily be removed due to his low birth. It was clever, he begrudgingly admitted, and not something he had expected of him. In one move he had created a stable and loyal lord. _Well, not so loyal, apparently_ , he thought drily.

"And what does Lord Petyr Baelish want?" he asked sweetly. This was even better then survivors from the taking of Gulltown, he decided.

"He offers his allegiance. First as a token of good faith he bid me deliver some information. First of all, he informs you your cousin will soon be marching with his full strength against the Waynwoods and Redfort, and will probably defeat them."

"He already has." Corbray replied "We just received the news."

"Beg your pardon my lords, I did not know that. Be that as it may. He also informs you that Yohn Royce will be marching towards this castle now, putting it under siege. He is under the impression that time is on his side and that even if it takes him months or years to starve this castle out, it will not hinder him." _So he expects us to sit meekly by and starve or bow._ Even if that was all, which Nestor doubted, this was valuable information.

"Concerning this, there is another crucial piece of information. Lord Baelish has been tasked with raising three thousand men from Gulltown. Once he does, he is to march and reinforce the siege. This is where he plans for the both of you to strike, while your cousin is unaware, catching him between his hammer and you anvil."

This was looking better and better. _Oh cousin. Whatever did you do, to make even someone that should be grateful to you for an eternity willing to betray you?_ Nestor could guess. His cousin had always had a strong sense of class and nobility, no doubt he despised his new Lord of Gulltown. Of course he does, the prick, how couldn't he when he's been given everything in life, never having to work for it. Nestor on the other hand had no problems working with someone like this.

"And what does Lord Baelish expect in return?" he asked.

"He desires to be kept in his position as Lord of Gulltown, and he desires all the surrounding, now Royce, lands taken during the rebellion be returned to the Lordship of Gulltown. He also demands complete control over the Gulltown fleet and over Gulltown finances and administration." That was only fair as far as Nestor was concerned. _If he can fight for it and use his brain to get and keep it, why not give it to him?_ It wasn't like one such as him could pose a threat. 

"And why may I ask, is Lord Baelish taking such a risk?" he finally asked.

"I cannot say for sure, I am only a messenger, however I can say that both Yohn Royce and the nobles under him have been muttering about giving someone of Lord Baelish's birth Gulltown. I don't think he expects him to keep his end of the bargain." _Seems this Baelish fellow isn't that stupid either_ , he though to himself. _And that he recognizes my cousin for the uptight bastard that he is._

"Very well, you will go and tell Lord Baelish I agree to his terms and look forward to working with him." he said, trying to contain his giddiness at the thought of finally having the upper hand over his cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are getting nice and spicy in the Vale. Now only Nestor, Yohn and Petyr are left as power. I wonder who'll win at the end?
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter should be a Cersei one, as we see her coming into King's Landing and her wedding night. Feel free to cringe for how that'll be like.
> 
> Also keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	20. Cersei I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter has descriptions of Cersei's and Robert's wedding night, and all that that entails!

It was a stormy day as Cersei's carriage passed through the Lion's Gate and into King's Landing. She could barely contained her giddiness as the ten horses slowly drew the carriage through the gate. Behind it, there were three hundred Lannister men, all of the knights in armor. The remaining thirty thousand men that had accompanied her to King's Landing, had since departed to make up camp outside the city. _Thirty thousand men. Not even Queen Alysanne had such an entrance_ , she thoughts as the carriage entered the tunnel through the walls. As the procession led by her uncle Tygett entered the city she looked out the window to see her new city.

The city she quickly saw, still bore the scars of the Sack done by her father. _Good, let them remember what happens when they defy House Lannister_ , she thought. A ruler, be him the King or the Queen, needed to be both loved and feared, and she intended to do just that. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, the people would love her, she knew, but let them fear her too. She had half a mind to talk to her soon to be husband to convince him to leave the damaged part of the city as they were. _Castamere was left for the world to see what happens when you yank the lion's tail, this should too._ However as she thought of that, her mind wandered to her future husband. What kind of man would he be? She knew he was a warrior, how could he not, having slain Rhaegar. Rhaegar, the man filled her with such mixed emotions. She still recalled the time she was in love with him, drawing pictures of the two of them riding a dragon together. And yet that had no come to pass. Instead Aerys had married his son to the flat chested Martell bitch, and because of that he had died at the Trident. _No matter. The better man won, and I will get to marry him._ _And the Targaryens will rue spurring me from the beyond the grave_ , she thought as the carriage passed through the city.

Deciding to watch her new subjects better, she looked out the window at the crowd that had gathered on the side of the road as her column of red cloaks passed. The crowd, while not as large the one that had been there in Lannisport to watch her depart, was still significant. People were watching from everywhere. Many stood on the side of the road, within arms reach of her column. Others were peering through windows, or from the roofs. Some stood on the streets going from the main road, trying to get a glimpse. _Let them, let them see their new Queen,_ she thought giddily.

However, her giddiness was tempered as she noticed the eerie silence that permeated the crowd. Nobody really said anything, they just watched, as if this was a funeral procession and not the entrance of the Queen. In fact even if there was a funeral procession people would have been more alive, weeping for the dead man. Here there was just silence, as the blank emotionless eyes looked at her, with nothing more than a look of morbid curiosity. Occasionally the voice of some random smallfolk could be heard. "Get your meat! Come get your meat on a stick! One penny each!" a woman would shout. Another man would try and sell some clothing. _This is wrong. They should be celebrating the arrival of their new Queen, not sit there trying to sell their stuff. How dare they!?_

However the eerie silence, only occasionally interrupted by a merchant, was suddenly broken as a voice was heard from one of houses by which they passed "Down with the Lions! Long Live Good Queen Elia!". Looking at the ugly, pox marked and dirty faces on the side of the road, she could see several weary nods and a few murmurs at that. Nobody else said anything else, yet still Cersei was filled with rage. She had half a mind to order to column stopped so the man that had shouted be caught and his tongue removed, however she didn't want to be late. _These will the most important days of my life._ Elia Martell had taken Rhaegar and even her Jaime away from her, but she will not take this away from her, she thought as the Red Keep and Aegon's hill came into view from behind Visenya's and the column turned towards it. She would be Queen, and nothing she could do could stop this, and then she will have her Jaime back and the Martell's bitch head on her fireplace.

Unbidden her thought turned towards Maggi the Frog, and her bloody prophecy. Whatever else, she had been right about one thing. She didn't marry the prince. She married the King. She had foolishly believed at the time that she had meant she'd only marry Rhaegar after his father died. Alas Maggy the Frog had been more right than she knew. Of course the part about the children was sheer nonsense. The part about the better Queen and the Valonqar though... _No, I refuse to let them take this away from me. Elia Martel, Maggy the Frog, Tyrion or the unwashed masses, none of them can touch me now_ , she thought as she pulled the curtain and spent the ride up towards the Red Keep in silence. She was also partially glad to have done so, knowing that on the ascent they would be closest to Flea Bottom, with all the smells that came from the proximity.

Finally, her carriage stopped climbing, arriving at a bit of flat land before stopping. This was the Red Keep, she knew, even with the windows to her carriage closed. Besides her, Jeyne Farman was fretting anxiously. _Stop it you silly girl_ , she wanted to say to her, but she knew it was below her dignity. _Let her fret, I am a lion, I do not fret and I do not concern myself with the sheep_. Smoothing her shirts she prepared herself. Eventually the door to the carriage was opened, presumably by one of the red cloaks, and with all the grace she had she descended down the steps into the open courtyard.

The first thing Cersei noticed as she exited the carriage was the smell. Even here on Aegon's hill, King's Landing's smell, of feces and Gods know what else, was ever present. She had gotten accustomed to it during her time at court, but the almost three years spent in Casterly Rock had washed away the memories of the smell. So now the smell hit her back with a vengeance, however she forced herself to pay it no mind. _I will be Queen, the greatest Queen ever, I cannot allow such a trifle thing to bother me._ Looking around she took in the welcoming party for her.

Cersei had never met Robert Baratheon, all she knew about him was from hearsay, and if the man that stood at the front proved anything, is that hearsay was not to be trusted. He was tall, very tall, and his hair was jet black, while his eyes were a burning clear blue. And yet that seemed to be where the accuracy of the stories ended. Cersei was expecting to see a man muscled like a maiden's fantasy, but while the man in front of her was by no means fat, nor was he particularly well muscled, his body looking gaunt and unassuming, maybe even on the too small side of things. Was this the man that defeated Rhaegar with a hammer so heavy most mortals couldn't even lift? She quickly put the question out of her mind. _No doubt the manner of Rhaegar's dead is another story. What matters is that he did defeat him. Rhaegar wasn't particularly muscular either_ , she remembered.

Stepping forward, she took a look at the man's face. Here too it seemed the stories had been wrong. While the man's face wasn't by any means ugly, his square jaw would prevent anybody from calling him comely. And to add to this, his face held a stern and somber look about it, making it seem even more unappealing. Those piercing blue eyes she felt scoured her as she took a perfect courtesy.

"Your Grace." she said.

"Your Grace?" the man in question asked surprised, his tone cold "I must say this is the first time I was confused for my brother." _Of course, the younger brother._ "I don't know if to be flattered or insulted"

"Are you not part of the Royal Family?" she asked, quickly thinking of a way out.

"Your courtesies do you credit, Lady Cersei." he replied in the same dry tone, and she felt pride, not at the compliment, but at how she had managed to salvage the situation. "However 'my lord' is more than sufficient". _What is this? Instead of the King I am greeted by his useless younger brother?_

"Am I to take it the King is busy?" she asked more coldly.

"Regrettably yes." the younger brother replied "He is currently completely immersed in the... war effort." _And I am less important than that? She would need to make sure to correct that. One time is enough, I can't have my King and husband openly disrespect me._ "Therefore as his hand of the King he had asked me to represent him." Cersei wanted to stop in shock. _What? How could he dare not give the position to my father?_ Anther thing it seemed she would need to address. _Father, how could you allow such a slight? It seems I will have to be the one to make things right_ , she thought as she simply said

"Of course, my lord" before turning towards her father. She could see in his eyes disappointment, no doubt from being reminded again that he was not the Hand. _As always, knowing the slights against his family but refusing to act on it._ It had been the same in the Rebellion, her father refusing to act against Aerys until the end, potentially jeopardizing everything. _A leader needs to be strong and decisive, not cower away behind the Rock,_ she knew. _It doesn't matter, now I'll be Queen, I'll be a fierce lioness on my own._

"Father." she said making another courtesy, this time in front of him. His green gold eyes looked at her for a moment.

"Cersei." he answered coolly with a nod

After that the greetings continued, as she exchanged the proper courtesies with various lords too unimportant for her to bother to remember the names of. Finally, Stannis Baratheon's voice was heard.

"Lady Cersei, no doubt you had a long and arduous journey, and it is late in the afternoon. If you will I'll show you to your accommodations." he said.

"Of course, my lord." she replied diplomatically as he turned and she went to follow, flanked by her father.

They moved in silence though the halls of the Red Keep. Initially she was confused as to where they were going, until the realization hit her. _We're not going towards the tower of the Hand, we're going to the guest chambers._ It was another insult she faced due to her father's failure, one more reason why she would need to correct his failure. _I will succeed where he failed_ , she decided. For now however she would need to sit in the guest wing. It was only for a night, however, and afterwards she will be Queen. It will be worth it, she decided.

The rooms themselves as it turned out were spacious and luxurious, not as nice as those at the Rock, but still almost acceptable. Almost. Not that she cared that much, her thoughts occupied by the following day and the wedding. That and the wedding dresses. Her father had ordered tens of wedding dresses, all made of the same beautiful mix of white and gold, with hints of crimson thrown in. They were all the same model, only different sizes for her to see which one would fit her best. So the afternoon and the evening she spent trying all the dresses until finally she found one that suited her perfectly. After then eating a small supper she collapsed in her bed from the exhaustions of the day, falling asleep immediately.

That night she dreamt of Maggy the Frog again. She was three and ten years old, led to the blasted tent by her ladies, Jeyne and Melara. She probably would never have agreed to sneak out into Lannisport and defy her father had Aerys not spurned her then and there. All sense of safety and security she had felt ever since her father had promised her she'd marry Rhaegar had disappeared, and she was curious about answers from a woods witch. They found her in a tent in a forgotten part of town. Jeyne had quickly fled upon seeing her. However Cersei was a lioness of the Rock and she would not be scared, not when she saw her, and not when she took the knife and gave the old witch a drop of her blood to suck between her toothless gums, a price for her three questions.

"Will I wed the Prince?" she asked both back then and in her dream.

"Never, you will wed the King." she replied in her croaky voice

"I will be queen, though?"

"Aye, Queen you shall be, until there comes another to take all that you hold the dead and the valonqar shall cast you out and squeeze the life out of you."

"Will the King and I have children?"

"Three, but just for you." she replied. That was where Melara stepped in in her memories and yet Melara wasn't in the tent now.

"Will I marry Jaime?" she asked instead of Melara.

"Not Jaime, nor any other man. Worms will have your maidenhead. Death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close." the woman said before she started laughing.

Cersei ran out of the tent, Casterly Rock in the distance in front of her. She knew, somehow, that there was safety there, that nobody could harm her. And yet the more she ran the further the Rock seemed to be from her. She ran and she ran, and then suddenly she felt an emptiness under her legs and she ran no further as she felt herself falling. Down and down a well she fell, just like Melara had. Finally she reached the water, she looked up, and where she should have been, lay Tyrion, the Valonqar, closing a door made of burning wood on the well as the water engulfed her.

That was when she woke up panting. _It was just a dream_ , she told herself. And yet she could still hear Magyy the Forg's shrill laughter. _No, you will not stop me. Not you, not Tyrion. I will defeat you. I will marry the King and give him children, Lannister-Baratheon princes and princesses._ Looking around she could see in her windows it was almost dawn. Finding herself unable to sleep she instead decided to get up. She spent the little that remained of the night walking around the room, a mix of nervousness and giddiness flowing through her. The morning passed through in the blink of an eye, a mix of breaking her fast, making sure the wedding dress was in good shape and more waiting. Finally noon came and she was escorted back to the courtyard and to her carriage by her father, who however opted to ride on a horse through the city.

This time around the crowd was not only bigger but also cheerier as they passed by. However, she quickly noticed that where she and her father passed, the same grave like silence reappeared. This time however no one dared say anything, no doubt fearing her father's presence. It is better to be feared than to be loved, her father had always told her, and seeing the crowds reaction of silent obedience, she couldn't help but agree with him in that moment. _However I will be both. I will a great and terrible lioness, who people will aspire to be, but will look away in fear at my might_ , she thought as the carriage started going up Visenya's hill. She spent the journey in silence preparing herself mentally.

Her reign was about to begin. That was all that mattered now. Not Maggy the Frog, not the filthy peasants, not Tyrion and not Elia Martell. Just her and her new husband. Still, certain things were required of her, so as the climb stopped and the carriages stopped in the Plaza outside the great sept of Baelor, she readied herself, putting on her most charming smile and making sure her dress was perfect as the door opened and she stepped out of the carriage.

The Great Sept of Baelor was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. It's crystal dome shone in the high noon sun, it's seven crystal towers striking up at the sky like glorious lances. And even outside the beautiful marble buildings, the plaza carried a beauty of it's own. Even the Statue of Baelor the Befuddled looked incredibly regal and beautiful, even if the man it was made after was a cockless fool. The crowd here, made up of more nobles, was a lot cheerier then the crowds she had yet seen. Shouts of "Long Live King Robert!" and "Long Live Queen Cersei!" were heard, making her heart soar. _This is it, Father's vision finally coming true_ , she thought, as her father took her arm and led her through into the Sept and through the Hall of Lamps.

Aunt Genna once told her the last time her father had smiled had been when her Lady Mother had discovered she was pregnant with Tyrion, the little stump. Ever since then her father had never smiled. And yet there were times, when Lord Tywin's face just threatened to smile. He never did, but the threat alone was terrible to behold, a glorious image cowing lesser men. This was one of those times, as he led her thought underneath the colored leaded glass globes that have the Hall it's name. Up ahead lay a large pair of double oaken doors that led toward the Sept proper. Soon enough she passed through those to enter the Sept itself. The Sept was packed full with nobles from the Stormlands, Westerlands and Crownlands. The other regions were not here due to the war, she knew, and even then the Westerlands and Stormlands were only here in such numbers due to the two hosts that resided in King's Landing for now.

Still, as she walked down the isle towards the altar and her future husband, she couldn't find it in herself to care. Everything was perfect in that moment. Well, almost perfect. There was one thing she missed, and that even in that moment made it's presence felt. Jaime. She was now living all her fantasies, except that in her fantasies, Jaime was always by her side, her white knight. And yet it seemed fate had a habit of keeping them apart. When she first managed to convince Jaime to join the Kingsguard, not only was that the first time she understood the power of her body, but it was the moment when they could finally be together. However, her father had thrown all that away by resigning as Hand the moment afterwards, and so, with her going back to Casterly Rock and Jaime going to the Red Keep they were still apart. Robert Baratheon winning should have been the moment they were reunited, the moment all their dreams and hopes came true and when they could finally be two parts of a greater whole, but fate had once again intervened. Her brother in a moment of foolish bravery had decided to save and flee with Elia Martell and her half blood daughter. _How had she done it? Did she use her body? No, Jaime only loves me, that would never work on him. How then?_ She didn't know, what would make Jaime abandon her like this just to save those two pathetic weaklings. _No matter, come what may, fate and all, I will win and Jaime will be by my side again_ , she swore as she finally arrived at the altar and got her first look at her very soon to be husband.

Any fear she might have had washed away at that moment. He was tall, taller than even his brother, though with those same jet black hair and bright blue eyes. However that was where the similarities ended. While his brother was gaunt and borderline skinny, her husband was more than fleshed out. He was something out of a wet dream. And his face was as comely as they come. There was a sense of awkwardness as he looked at her and she felt herself blush. His face lacked the happiness she was sure her own bore, thought she wasn't worried. _I have all the time in the world to make him as happy as he can be_ , she thought to herself as the Septon begun the ceremony. Cersei barely herd anything he said as he looked at the handsome face of her husband. He wasn't beautiful, not like Rhaegar, but that didn't matter. _I will be beautiful enough for the both of us._

Eventually the ceremony came to an end, and after saying the seven vows to each other, her husband came down and placed a kiss upon her lips. The kiss was nice. It wasn't like some of the kisses she had shared with Jaime, but then again she doubted anyone could complete her as well as her twin. Still it was pleasant and promised great things to come. Despite herself she felt some slickness gathering between her legs. However all too quickly the kiss ended, and new husband and wife, together with joined hands departed. They didn't say anything as they exited the Sept and a crowd was there to meet them. There, seeing the two of them, the crowd finally cheered. All was well in that moment, as her husband hand lifted up her own to the crowd.

The following hours passed by in a daze, as she was separated from her husband and the carriages took them back to the Red Keep. Soon enough they were at the feast and the gifts begun coming in. Most of them were either fancy weapons for Robert, or various jewelry for her. As if she didn't already have the best jewelry made by the best goldsmiths in Lannispoirt. Still she couldn't find it in her to be upset, not today. So instead she just smiled and thanked everybody as graciously as she could, as did he husband.

"Husband, I was wishing to ask you, what will happen to my brother Jaime once you win?" she asked graciously at one point. This would be her first decisive moment of her shinning reign, she knew.

"I'm sorry my lady, but the Kingslayer has forfeited his life." he said, and Cersei felt almost slapped. _Neverminded, I'll make him come round,_ she knew.

They barely exchanged another word throughout the feast, thought judging from all he saw, and the amount of drinks her husband was having, it seemed as though it was because he was even more nervous and afraid than she was, and not because he had taken her comment badly. That was good, though the silence did irk her a bit. _No matter, we're husband and wife, soon in fact not only in name._ The bedding made butterflies flutter in her belly. She had always assumed Jaime would be her first, and yet they had never actually done the whole act, so somehow it seemed this would indeed be her first time. She knew she could expect some pain, but she wasn't worried about that.

So the feast went on. Soon the meals were brought, one and twenty courses, all paid for by House Lannister. Besides the food, there were all form of entertainers there to show the wealth of House Lannister, from jugglers to dwarfs, the last one bringing a lot of enjoyment as she imagined Tyrion there in the middle of the Hall being humiliated.

Slowly but surely the evening went on, as her nervousness increased at the thought of what was to come. And sure enough, sooner than when she would have wanted a call for the bedding was heard. Before she could even react a mass of humanity surged forward and picked up both herself and her husband. She was quickly hoisted on the arms of the men, who quickly got to work ripping her dress to shreds. Other women, lesser women, would have been ashamed or tried covering themselves. Cersei did no such thing, instead standing proud as she was carried to the bedchamber. By the time she was deposited in the marriage bed she had heard probably every dirty joke imaginable, however she did not care. She took them all with her head held high, and she prided herself on never once blushing.

Soon enough, the men that had brought her departed, and then the women arrived carried a naked Robert to the wedding bed, depositing him there, before leaving only the two of them in the room. Looking at him naked she felt even more moisture pooling between her legs. Her husband truly was a fit man, with and toned abdomen and a rather impressive manhood that stood at full attention. However before she could admire him any more, he suddenly moved and brought himself over her, kissing her possessively. She felt his tongue enter her mouth, and she let him, thought his manner did feel slightly invasive as he probed her mouth. His weight over her felt uncomfortable, trapping her. He smelled strongly of wine, she realized. How much has he been drinking? However, before she could wonder, he quickly spread her legs apart. This was going to be it, she knew. However before she could tell him to be kind and gentle as it was her first time, without warning, his manhood entered her furiously, ripping through her maidenhead and slamming into her with the force of a fist.

Cersei felt herself split in half from the pain. She couldn't help a small whimper of pain as, seemingly uncaring, her husband begun to thrust into her quickly. With every thrust, Cersei felt as if she was being punched down there. It was agony, his body trapping her, with him having settled in the crook of her neck, his cock painfully pounding her, every move causing her pain, as she felt herself be ripped in half from the pain. It was agony the kind Cersei had never suffered. And then, his pace quickened and the pain increased, like a knife kept stabbing her in the same wound. And yet, for all the pain she suffered, she could still clearly hear him as he whispered "Lyanna" in her ear, his pace increasing ever more as did her pain, until finally she felt him twitch and spill his seed inside of her. Her husband grunted one more time, before rolling off her and moving to the side, his back against her. Soon enough he was snoring loudly.

Cersei felt overwhelmed. _This wasn't right! This wasn't supposed to be happening! No! Why must this happen to me_ , she thought, as tears appeared in her eyes. She tried holding them back, but it was no good. _And who cares anyway, he's passed out drunk, and no one else could hear me_. So unbidden her tears started flowing into her pillow. For a long time she felt only the pain between her legs and the tears, slowly flowing, and the anger and pain flowing out of her body with them. At least some of them. _How had it gone so wrong?_ She couldn't help but ask herself as a fresh stream descended her face. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, the moment everything became right. Instead it seemed it was the moment everything became wrong.

"What did I do wrong?" she whispered to herself. A part of her hated herself for how weak her voice sounded. The rest of her didn't care. "Didn't I do everything right?" she asked herself "Aren't I beautiful? I am, of course I am! Then what? Was I impolite? No I never was!!!!" she said to herself more firmly as the tears begun flowing strongly again. She felt confused, confused and hurt. Her nether regions throbbed with pain, and as she put a hand there to inspect herself, she saw her thigh was covered in a mix of blood and seed, both of them slowly tickling down her womanhood. More than the pain, she felt used and despoiled. She felt dirty as another trickle of seed and blood went down her thigh from her womanhood.

Mustering her will she managed to somewhat stopped the tears as she rose from the bed. However, she was still sobbing as she made her way towards the bowl of water and cleaning cloth that stood at the other side of the room. As she walked, the pain in her womanhood spiked with every step, an almost unbearable soreness. Slowly, stepping gingerly on the marble floor, she made her way to the bowl. Carefully she dipped the cloth in the water and begun cleaning her thigh. After that was done, she dipped the cloth again before gingerly starting to clean her woman hood as well. And yet, when she was done she still felt just as dirty and as used. More firmly, she put the cloth into the water again, before she started using it more strongly between her legs. She had to get the filth out. However as she did so, she felt the pain rising again, and the image of her new husband pounding away at her came into her mind, as unbidden her tears came back to her, and she collapse on the floor.

She stayed there, naked, sore and sobbing as she lost count of the time and the tears. And yet there was one thing that broke through the tears, one memory of their coupling, that hurt her not physically, but way, way worse. That name. "Lyanna". Cersei wanted to both cry and rage at that. She was there for him, wet, beautiful, and willing. And yet, not only was he treated less than a common whore, but like a common whore, her animal of a husband had whispered the name of another woman as he took her. Lyanna Stark. That Northern whore. Elia Martell marrying Rhaegar was bad enough, but then at least it was his fool father that had been guilty. However Lyanna Stark hadn't married him, she had seduced him. She had stolen Rhaegar from her, and now it seemed she had stolen her husband from her even from beyond the great.

Never before had she felt such a rage at someone, not even at Tyrion. Tyrion was alive and there, but Lyanna Stark was now dead, and she could not even touch her. She was now with Rhaegar, her Rhaegar, while she was stuck with the man she had spurned, a man that still cared more for her dead than he cared for Cersei alive. She thought of Rhaegar. Rhaegar wouldn't have hurt her like that. Rhaegar was many things, but a beast he was not. He was gentle, oh so gentle, from his music, to his face to his voice, everything about him was gentle. He wouldn't have hurt me, he would have made it enjoyable. Him and Jaime too.

Oh, how he missed Jaime. Jaime should have been here with her. She should have given her maidenhead to him. They had done everything short of that, and now she regretted that. That beast didn't deserve my virginity, she thought as a colder rage filled her. He doesn't deserve anything. More confidentially, she rose and walked back towards the bed, pain still filling her with every step. _I will no longer cry for him, he doesn't deserve my tears._ She remembered the last time she had cried, when Aerys had rejected a marriage between her and his son. She had never cried since. She vowed then never to show any weakness to her beast of a husband. She was a lioness of Casterly Rock, proud and fierce and they would all hear her roar. Willing herself not to shake or cry, she suppressed one last sob before going back into bed. She would not show fear, she decided as she forced herself to lie down near her husband.

She couldn't sleep that night, and she didn't want too. She knew what kind of nightmares she'd have if she did. So she waited and steeled herself for what was to come. She'd shed her tears, she'd shed not a single drop more. As soon as the morning came she called for a servant to get her dressed. She knew that the newly weds were supposed to exit their chambers together, and yet she didn't care. She didn't care if people saw theirs would not be a happy marriage. She wanted to humiliate her husband, to pay him back even a hundredth of what he had just done to her. So, she quietly instructed the servant to get a dress and promptly got dressed and then left the chambers on her own.

Soon as she did, she found a pair of red cloaks to accompany her to her father's solar. She wasn't sure what she was doing there or what she'd talk about, but she felt the need to do it regardless. If Jaime or Aunt Genna were here she'd go straight for them and talk to them. Her aunt had always been one of the few to understand her, while Jaime had been her other half. However without them she found herself at a loss. Uncle Tygett understood very little besides sword fighting, while Uncle Kevan would just prattle on about duty. She'd even welcome Uncle Gerion. For all his japes and unnatural care for Tyrion, he was still her uncle and he did care for her. However both Uncle Gerion and Aunt Genna were at Casterly Rock, making sure Tyrion doesn't burn the place. Which only truly left her with her father.

She knew she couldn't speak with him in his solar, after all every day they had been at court her father had hammered home the point that the walls have ears. For a brief moment she considered inviting him to the Godswood, but thought better of it. Nobody summoned Tywin Lannsiter anywhere, an attitude she made a note to imitate. _I will be just like you father. You survived and defeated Aerys, and I will do the same for Robert,_ she told herself as she walked towards her father's solar.

When she arrived, she discovered her father, not the least bit surprisingly, sitting at his desk, scribbling down something. She knew how this went, so she dismissed the guards with a nod of her head, before sitting down in the chair in front of her father. He continued writing whatever it was that he writing for a while, seemingly ignoring Cersei. She knew how this game was played, so she decided to sit and wait in silence.

"Cersei." her father finally said, lifting his eyes from the piece of paper. "Aren't you supposed to present yourself with your husband?" he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I am, father. However, I find myself seeking the Godswood. Would you mind accompanying me?" she asked. At that her father's eyes finally fixated on her, his cold gaze looking deeply at her. Even after all this time she couldn't help the feeling of unease at that. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, her father spoke.

"Very well." he said, thought without moving a muscle, besides taking some chalk and putting it on the paper to dry the ink. It was only after the ink had dried and he had rolled and sealed the letter that he rose from his seat. "Shall we?" he asked, to which she rose and bid to follow.

The journey to the Godswood was done in silence, with neither of them speaking, and nobody speaking to them due to how early the hour was.

"So, Cersei," her father said once they had arrived before the heart tree and made sure there was nobody around to listen to them "why are you not with your husband? You have a duty to give the best impression as Queen." she couldn't help a snicker at that.

"His Grace, is currently passed out from the drink." she replied tersely

"I see." her father replied gritting his teeth a little "Was he able to consummate?" he then asked. O _f course father, don't ask me how I am, if I'm hurt, no just worry if I might have a child to continue the legacy of House Lannister._

"He was." she replied a little tersely, hoping her father would not press the point.

"Good." was all that her father replied, with such a cold detachment, one would be remiss for forgetting she was his daughter. "Any other reason for bringing me here?"

"Yes, father. What will we do about Jaime?" she couldn't help but ask. Her father looked around hard in search of any listeners before answering.

"Once the war is concluded I will make sure he'll be alive and safe in Essos."

"Essos? And who will be your heir?" she couldn't help but ask. _Gods, please not Tyrion._

"He will be."

"But father..." she made to explain the problem in that.

"This is why it's imperative you produce and heir and a spare, Cersei. Once we have that we can safely remove Robert and as Queen Regent you can bring him home." he told her seriously, and in that moment she wanted to hug him. That was all she wanted, power, Jaime and Robert Baratheon dead.

"I will father, you can trust me, I will do what needs to be done for the legacy of House Lannister." she said barely containing her happiness at the news. _Thank you father_ , she wanted to say, but she didn't, instead putting on a composed face and going away. And that night as Robert yet drunkenly came to claim his right, she stood there and endured, hoping his seed to take root, and with it his death to take root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, my laptop broke, and I had to have it fixed. Luckily that's done so we're now back to the usual once every two days upload schedule!
> 
> Anyways, this was an interesting chapter shall we say. I tried to create a balance between Cersei's innate awfulness, and the very real and very awful trauma she suffered at the hands of Robert. It's a hard balancing act, so I hope I managed to pull it off. Give your impressions in the comments, and please, please, don't victim blame.


	21. Benjen I

Benjen watched from a forested hill as the night slowly engulfed Deepwood Motte, and the surrounding forest edged ever nearer to the wooden castle. Deepwood Motte was a sturdy castle, it had to be, with the Glovers being one of the strongest Houses in the North, and yet not only was it a wooden castle, one of the only castles of a great Northern family not made out of the traditional granite, but the surroundings were badly underkept as result of the war. Normally any castle would clear the forest and the tall vegetation around for miles, to prevent exactly what Benjen and the Mountain Clans were doing. However, the almost two years in the almost two year for which the men had been called away for war had made their mark on the landscape, young pines and other forest vegetation had sprouted around the keep, especially now with the coming of spring, and the brief interlude between the return of the Northern levies and Benjen's flight from Winterfell hadn't been enough to clear it.

As such the castle was now very vulnerable to a surprise attack by a competent enemy who knew the land, exactly what he and the Mountain Clans were looking to exploit. As the last light of the twilight disappeared, Benjen could no longer even see the soldiers approaching, thought by his estimation they were now less than fifty feet away from the most outward facing parts of the wooden wall. So far the plan is going well, Benjen thought as darkness covered everything and only a few lights from the windows of Deepwood Motte could be seen. _Now, all I can do is sit and wait,_ he thought. He had never commanded any army before, but he could tell he already hated the feeling. He was the commander of this little army of their and yet he was as powerless as a baby now.

A part of him wanted to be a part of the main assault, but he wasn't foolish enough to do that. Sure it could help with the morale of the men, but having the Mountain Clan leaders fight with the men was more than enough for that, especially as the men hardly knew Benjen, and against that the risks were high. He suspected that outside maybe the Umbers, Mormonts and maybe the Mountain Clans, nobody was truly fighting for his nephew, but rather they were all fighting against his sister by law's regency. That she was a Southerner was bad enough for the Northern Lords, but she had gone and over done it, first by building a Sept in Winterfell, something that still made Benjen want to punch the woman hard, and then she had gone and tried and have him arrested. He hadn't even intended to raise up arms, but when Bolton had come and tipped him off that his dear sister by law wanted to have him captured, he had had little choice but to send the ravens and flee with his fastest horse, afraid of what could happen were he to be captured.

Bolton was still a riddle however. Till now he had seemed to be Catelyn Tully's most devoted lackey and lickspite, only to betray her. He had asked the man just that, why was he doing this, to which he only replied "Because I serve the North, Young Stark, and right now you're the best chance for the North." He still didn't know if it was true or not, thought he could not really see any other motivation for the man that made sense. It was beyond confusing, if he was honest, and yet the mystery of what game Roose Bolton was playing was one he would have to solve later. Right now, one thing was clear, as the flayed man himself had told him, he was the leader of this little rebellion. He needed to stay alive, which included not leading from the front. If he died, her sister by law's regency would be secured and the rebel forces would just melt away.

He still wanted to curse himself for not accepting the blasted regency. At the time it had seemed like the best choice. Catelyn could be regent and have to suffer through ruling the North for the next sixteen years, he could avoid any direct conflict in the North or with the Riverlands, and most importantly he could go and help Lyanna's boy. How was he supposed to know that the story about him being in Essos was just a necessary deception as Dorne was preparing its spears? And yet even if they hadn't couldn't he have done more to help as regent? a small voice inside his head asked. And Benjen knew it was right. He had been a fool, looking to avoid responsibility and rushing for what seemed like the most honorable and easy thing to do. And wasn't that what his father had always preached against? Thinking back, they had all disappointed their father. There had been two lessons he had drilled into their heads since forever. "The lone wolf dies but the pack survives" and "Wisdom and duty above all else, even honor". And what had they all done? Bran had proven time and again that for all his qualities, wisdom was not one of them, which had led to his death. What had compelled him to do what he had done? He still didn't know for sure, though he couldn't help but blame himself. When Lyanna had run off with her Prince she had made him promise not to tell. And he didn't. Had he told, would Bran and father be alive? he had asked himself time and again. There was nothing he could do about it now, but the thoughts had consumed him. For a long time he had considered joining the Watch as soon as the War was over. He couldn't live with his failure. 

And then Ned had gone and gotten himself killed. If there was anyone father would be disappointed with, it was Ned. That he had fought against Lyanna's boys claim in support of Robert Baratheon was a wound that hurt in a way that was hard to describe. Ned had always been separated from the rest of them as a result of his wardship at the Vale, but to turn against his family like that... Benjen couldn't even imagine it. Besides that, him attacking four Kingsguard had been many things, but wise was not one of them. Deep down he knew he should hate Elia Martell and Jaime Lannister for killing his brother, but every time he did, he found he couldn't. They had been the only ones defending Lyanna and her boy in that moment, and had only killed Ned due to that. More than that, he couldn't help but ask himself, if he had been there, who would he had chosen? Lyanna or Ned? Would he had been able to fight his brother to protect Lyanna's boy? He was taking up arms against Ned's son for that particular purpose now, he knew. That was answer enough to that question, he judged.

And even in that he knew that his father would be disappointed in him too, fighting against his family, starting a civil war. Stark versus Stark, Northmen vs Northmen. And yet was that his fault? Hadn't Catelyn been the first to abandon the Stark family in favor of her Tully family? She was, he knew, but she only could due to his own failures and stupidity. No matter what, he was at fault. And yet, while he had started this mess, he was determined to finish it. Lyanna was dead, and every time he acknowledged that he felt as if something inside him died as well, but her son was still alive, and as long as he drew breath, he was determined to fight for him, even if right now "fighting" meant sitting on this damned hill and waiting.

Besides him, Gregor Forrester looked to be in a pretty similar state, thought it was hard to tell in the moonlight, walking around aimlessly. Benjen had insisted he and his men sit on the sidelines for this as the Mountain Clansmen were far better for this mission, and while the man had seen the logic to that, he was clearly still not satisfied with it any more than he was. Still he was glad to have him here, both to share the misery and in the case things went south, have a reserve led by a skilled commander with a loyal force of men at the ready.

Going to Ironwrath first after escaping Winterfell had been a gamble. He personally knew Gregor Forrester since they had both been left in the North to rule their lands, and his wife was from the Reach, or in other words, a likely Targaryen loyalist. Then again, the man had become a lord after losing his father at the Trident, so he was unsure if he wouldn't be bitter towards the Targaryens. However, Ironwrath was close to Winterfell, and it allowed him to quickly set up a base of operations. Therefore, aware of the risks but also of the potential rewards, he had decided to approach Ironwrath slowly and discreetly, scouting before making his presence known, and his heart had swelled when he realized that above the Stark direwolf, Ironwrath had the three headed dragon banner flying. From there things had been easier.

Rather than wait for the Umbers and Karstarks, who Benjen knew would take their time mobilizing their force, he and Gregor had decided striking quickly was the best course of action. Once in Ironwrath he had learnt that the main houses to have declared for her sister by law were Bolton, Manderly and Glover. He wasn't surprised by the Boltons, not with Roose trapped in Winterfell, though he strongly questioned their loyalty, and no doubt the Manderlys were hoping for a marriage with little Robb, seeing as their main competitors, the Karstarks had declared for Benjen, due to Benjen suggesting Alys Karstark would be a great match for little Robb. He couldn't hit the Manderlys, nor could he the Boltons, and attacking Winterfell was entirely out of the question. Which left only Deepwood Motte as an option. A very good option as it was a perfect rallying point for all his current allies like the Mormonts and Umbers, as well as for future potential allies like the Dustins and Ryswells, who he could only hope hated her sister by law and Ned more than they hated Brandon for all that had happened.

The path till here was mostly uneventful, and convincing the Mountain Clans had been remarkably easy. Being there as a Stark was a great honor for them and combined with the news about the Sept, it had meant that in the blink of an eye Benjen had another two and a half thousand warriors fighting by his side.

"You know, brooding isn't going to make the wait any easier." Gregor said, bringing him out of his mind.

"Where as your pacing is, what? More elegant brooding?" he asked with a raised eyebrow before the both of them and the guards started laughing. It wasn't that funny, but at least it was a good distraction from the nervousness. However, just as the Ironwrath Lord was about to give a reply, a horn was sounded from the direction of Deepwood Motte.

"What's that?" one of the Forrester guards asked.

"I don't think it's one of ours." Gregor replied concerned.

"It's too early for that, the men we sent to infiltrate the castle were not supposed to open the gates from the inside until later." It had been a risk, he knew, but the potential pay off of attacking an open gate was more than worth it. Alas, judging form the sound the plan had backfired and their men discovered. It didn't change much, but the thought that five men had died for nothing weighed heavily on Benjen's heart. They were volunteers, he knew, but their deaths were now pointless none the less. "Well, it seems our cover is blown." he finally said "Sound the horn to signal the attack" he said to the guard carrying said horn, the tallest guard, with hopefully the strongest lungs.

At his command the man in question put the horn to his lungs and blew in it one time, signaling the attack. The sound was piercing and for a moment it was all that could be heard. After it had stopped, for a moment it seemed the entire world held it's breath. The commotion that had begun to be heard from Deepwood Motte had seemingly stopped and even the birds and animals weren't making a sound. And then, after that moment, a roar was heard, emanating from two and a half thousand voices on the slopes leading to the wooden walls of the fortress. Benjen couldn't see it, but immediately after he could hear as a mass movement started on the approaches to the walls, as his soldiers no doubt had started running to take the walls before the defenders knew what was happening. Soon enough he could hear the sound of metal and bodies hitting wood as the first men clearly reached the walls. Meanwhile he could see as countless torches appeared in the bailey of the castle, the defenders finally beginning to realize what was happening. Benjen could only hope it was too late for them.

Not long after the clashing of steel begun to be heard, and after that the screams. It was unlike anything had ever heard, the screams of dying men, piercing through the night covering all other sounds. These didn't sound like normal screams either. There was something unnatural, something wrong about them, something that touched your very soul, and you could only imagine the agony and the state of the people making the screams. And there were so many of them. Benjen felt like he was going to throw up. He could feel the sick in his throat. _I cannot, I am their leader now, I cannot show such weakness_ , he told himself sternly. However of the guards not all of them seemed to have the same resistance, and one of them did throw up. The rest didn't look much better. Even the otherwise solemn looking Gregor Forrester had turned a little bit green at the sounds.

And they still continued, more and more, a cacophonous melody of screams and blades. _Gods be good, if this is considered a small battle, I don't want to ever fight in a real battle. Is this how the Trident sounded too?_ On a logical level, he knew that the Trident must have sounded way worse, simply on account of the numbers, but he couldn't imagine how that worse would sound like. Unable to do anything, he too begun pacing alongside Forrester, if only in the hope that it might make the screams sound less potent. It didn't. On and on they went, for what must have been half an hour. Eventually, while the screams continued, the sound of blades clashing slowly died down, and even the scream begun to go down, and yet each and every one of those still herd still embedded itself deep within Benjen.

Finally another horn was heard, a deep and long rhythmic single blast. It meant victory, Benjen knew.

"I guess we better go and see now." Gregor said solemnly.

"Aye, we better." he replied, and the two of them and the guards slowly made their way to the castle, thought not before lighting some of the torches they had kept, the need for secrecy now gone. Slowly they made their way from the forested hill towards the main gate. The gate they quickly saw was battered and broken, and corpses were strung on the top of the two towers flanking the gate. On the towers itself, he saw two soldiers hoisting down the Baratheon banner, no doubt to replace it with the Targaryen one above the Stark direwolf.

On the rampant above the broken gate, he saw none other than Hugo Wull. The man had been the most risky of the mountain clansmen, given that Theo Wull was one of the men to die fighting with his brother, which is why Benjen had approached him last. However, to his surprise the man had agreed to join him without any issues, seemingly disregarding his cousin's death, or at least not blaming it on the Targaryens. Now he stood on the ramparts, a torch in one hand, a blood covered axe in the other. Looking at the man he seemed undisturbed by the carnage on the towers, actually he looked almost happy. _How can he look like that after such a carnage?_

"The Benjen!" the man called out. Normally Benjen would have found some amusement in the weird Mountain Clansman way of addressing, today he just ignored it.

"Lord Wull." he replied calmly as they stopped in front of the gate, trying not to let his unease at the carnage show. "Did we capture the Keep?". With their around three thousand men against a garrison of around two hundred, the outcome of the battle had never been in question. At least in regards to the bailey. As always with mottte and bailey castles, the problem was that usually the garrison could just bleed you in the fight for the bailey, before retreating to the keep. They had hoped that the element of surprise might allow them to rush the keep, but he knew better than to think plans always went as expected.

"Aye we did. Thas a hard fight near the gate, but we managed to fight our way through. We also captured Robett Glover. The lad tried putting up a fight, but we captured him without spilling any blood." That was good. Benjen didn't want to spill anymore blood than necessary, and the brother of the current Lord Glover was always a valuable asset, loathe as he was to consider that angle.

"And casualties?" he asked.

"Around half the garrison dead, the rest injured or surrendered. As for our own, I'm say around fifty dead. Once and a half as many wounded, mostly just light arrow wounds. Our surprise was near total. Most of them were half asleep by the time we fought." the man said, explaining the low losses on their side. Benjen knew that he couldn't realistically have hoped for better, yet still the idea of so many dead still was beyond uncomfortable. Still he knew he couldn't dwell on that, less he show weakness in front of the men.

"Very well. Have a few guard bring young Glover in the courtyard." he said as he, Forester and his men made their way through the broken gate.

If Benjen had thought hearing the carnage was bad, seeing the aftermath was worse. Everywhere corpses where strung around, their last moment etched on to their faces. Some were scared, other confused, and some had a look of unbearable pain. Even worse where those still alive, some missing limbs, one trying to hold his entrails in as they flowed out through a slash in his belly.

This is all because of me, he couldn't help but feel. Because of my stupidity, because I didn't tell Brandon the truth, because I didn't accept the regency. Looking around he saw another man slowly trying to walk through the bloody courtyard, his foot stiff and bleeding, the blood looking almost black in the light of the torches. If Benjen had felt sick hearing the screams, now he felt the sick coming into his mouth. Painfully he swallowed it back, the taste however remaining in his mouth.

"Lord Forrester, take all your men but four to remain as guards here. Gather all the wounded, and get the castle Maester and the healers back at our camps."

"Which should I gather first, our men or their men?" the lord of Ironwrath asked.

"All the men." Benjen replied firmly. He would not let anyone else die, no matter who they had fought for.

"Right away, my lord." he replied, uneasiness from the carnage being heard in his voice too, as he departed leaving him with only the four guards. Benjen doubted he would need them, but it never harmed to be sure.

"First time seeing a battle, lad?" Hugo Wull said, appearing besides him. Benjen knew that he should be irked by the use of the term 'lad', he needed to project authority, but in that moment he didn't care.

"Aye." he answered honestly "Does it get better?"

"Aye, it does, but it never truly goes away. Eventually the rush does become greater than the horror, but afterwards it's never good, no matter if it's your first or your one hundredth."

"Don't know if to be concerned or relieved about that."

"You don't need to be. This is war, war should never be easy. Fighting for a just cause does make it easier thought."

"And do you believe we're fighting for a just cause?" he asked. Every rational side of Benjen told him yes, but seeing the carnage around the courtyard, something inside of him was screaming 'NO'.

"Aye, we are lad. We are Northmen, we won't be ruled by trouts, and we're fighting to place a true Northmen on the Throne, not a monster that laughs at dead children." Benjen agreed with everything, well except the last part, but it still hardly made him feel better.

"Excuse me?" he asked confused

"Didn't you hear. When presented with the Targaryen baby princeling, the one killed by Tywin Lannsiter, Robert Baratheon only laughed and called for his older sister's head as well. Several of my men where there alongside the Ned."

Benjen just gulped, he hadn't heard that. Knowing they were fighting someone that would do the same to Lyanna's boy, that did seem to somewhat lessen to blow of the horror in front of him, if only by replacing it with another horror, this time inside his head, as he pictured a little boy looking just like his sister getting killed. He was interrupted however as Robett Glover was brought forward by his guard, a deathly glare in his eyes as he looked at Benjen.

"Stark!" he said the words, spitting on the ground right after. Benjen ignored him.

"Lord Glover, you are now a prisoner. Know however that you will not be harmed and be treated according to your status. Lord Wull, see he is given the Lord's chambers, but place four guards on him at all times." he said, as the Lord in question, took the still glaring Glover and took him up to the Keep, leaving Benjen alone.

This was a victory, he knew, one that would mean a lot. He had struck the first blow and he had won. If he was to win this, he would see many more dead people, he knew. _I will have plenty of time to beat myself over it once the North is secured and Lya's boy is safe and on the Throne_ , he told himself as he steeled himself and walked towards the main keep as well to assess the situation and send the ravens, calling all his supporters here. The war had only just begun after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, war is hell, as Benjen has just discovered. This is my first ever kinda battle scene, so hope I did alright and please leave your feedback in the comments. Also, I think it's obvious Roose serves the North the same way Varys serves the realm.
> 
> Anyways, next time:
> 
> Jaime is conflicted.
> 
> Lucerys has a plan
> 
> And Jaime is on a boat


	22. Jaime V

The boat moved silently across the water as the muffled oars pushed it towards Estermont. Outside it was dark, with only a sliver of the moon and the stars lighting anything. The boats themselves reflected nothing, their armor was all painted black and their swords were all covered, lest they reflect anything. Arriving on the island before morning was crucial to the plan, but far more important was not being seen or heard. Surprise was the crucial factor. Initially, as the commander of the ground forces for this mission, he had wanted to just land troops at the point of the island furthest from the main castle, set up siege lines and use the catapults and scorpions on the larger dromonds to breach the walls. It was the plan they had generally agreed upon at the war council following Ser Barrsitan's dismissal from the Kingsguard.

However, as they were getting ready to depart from Ghost Hill with the three thousand men Jaime had for the assault, the other two thousand getting ready to attack a few smaller islands in the Sea of Dorne controlled by the Stormlands, Lord Velaryon had come up with an interesting plan. The man said it was inspired from an ancient story about how the Old Empire of Ghis had sacked Qarth at the end of a ten year siege. The story was pretty odd if Jaime was any judge, and from the strange features of it like the giant wooden rabbit, he wasn't quite sure how true it was. Then again he had never been to Qarth, unlike the Lord of Tides, he hadn't even ever been outside of Westeros.

Still regardless of the dubious inspiration, the plan was sound, Jaime had to admit, even if a bit dishonorable. Then again, it was war, if there was one place everybody agreed honor had no place on, it was the battlefield. The only person who ever thought honor belonged on the field of battle had been Daemon Blackfyre, and all it had gotten him had been an arrow filled death from above for him, his sons and his cause. So he had agreed to the old valryrian's plan, especially considering how thin their manpower was. Sure, the Red Viper's plan could perhaps secure a mostly bloodless victory over the first wave of invaders, his father to be exact, if Prince Doran's spies were anything to go by, but even then the war would be still far from won. They would need every last man if they were to hope to win.

The first part of the plan had gone easily enough. Lord Velaryon had correctly argued that even if they managed to obtain the element of surprise in their arrival, something that given the number of fisherman between Ghost Hill and Estermont, could only, maybe, be accomplished by sailing the fleet at full speed towards the target, even then the time it took between the ships landing and the troops arriving at the castle walls would be more then enough for the castle to mobilize. So instead of trying to deceive their enemy in regards to their destination or their presence, they had instead opted to do it in regards to their aim.

Earlier that day, they had timed their fleet to arrive a bit after mid day and launch a raid, not on the castle, but on the shipyards and village below. This served not only fool the defenders into thinking their mission was to raid as opposed to taking the isle, but also to blind the enemy out at sea by removing the docks from the equation. That part had gone perfectly, and as evening approached their men, having taken all that wasn't fixed to the ground, though having harmed the civilians as little as possible by Jaime's orders, had departed the isle, sailing towards the south, with the winds of the Sea of Dorne working to slow them down, as they, as always, blew towards the North.

However, hopefully unbeknownst to the defenders of Estermont, as soon as darkness had fallen, the fleet had stopped, and a number of small but fast rowing boats, with muffled oars, and crews dressed up as to not reflect anything, had been put to water, rowing hard towards the isle. If their plan was right, they would hopefully achieve total surprise, and arrive on the isle and scale the castle walls before the defenders knew what was happening, with them hopefully believing they were now sailing to Dorne instead of heading back.

Around him, five and ten other men were on the boat, five on each side rowing, five others in between, one between each pair of rowers, alternating every half an hour so that everyone had time to rest. Finally there was him at the front, guiding the boat as the impromptu captain of the craft. Around there there were nine and ten other boats like it, all rowing towards Estermont in black leather over the armor, muffled oars and covered blades, and with many grappling hooks at the ready. The preparations had taken a full day of extra time at Ghost Hill to find the boats and prepare them as well as the men, but if it meant a quick relatively bloodless victory then Jaime would consider it time well spent.

So the boats slowly moved, and Jaime quickly found he had nothing to do. Unbidden his mind wandered to why he was leading this mission in the first place. Even many days later, the shock had still not worn off. Elia and him... it still was surprising, to say the least. He had never truly considered another woman if he was being honest with himself. It had always been him and Cersei, from their very first moments as they came into the world. They were meant to be together they'd told themselves time and time again. He could still remember the last time they had been together, at Harrnehal. Two years ago. It was the last time they'd proclaimed their love for each other, as Cersei convinced him to join the Kingsguard, not that he needed much convincing. It was perfect at the time, Jaime would fulfill all his dreams and they'd finally be together. Only they never were together afterwards and his dreams turned to nightmares. Looking back, a part of Jaime knew that if presented with the choice of going through being a Kingsguard again and being with Cersei or being heir to the Rock and marrying Lysa Tully, he'd be consummating the marriage with Lysa Tully before Cersei could as much as scowl.

And yet he couldn't help but feel guilty at that. Guilty for betraying Cersei, both in such a choice, or in his relationship with Elia. He was hers and she was his, wasn't that what they had always known? And yet, a part of him knew Cersei had never truly been his, not fully, not when above all else she dreamt of being Queen, first with Rhaegar and then no doubt with Robert Baratheon. And yet despite all of that, hadn't she wanted him above all else, wasn't that why she had asked him to join the Kingsguard?

And that only accentuated his guilt, because he knew, he truly did want Elia, with her beautiful, intelligent brown eyes, beautiful hair and subtle yet beautiful shapes. And he knew there was a connection there, forged from all the things they'd been through. He wondered what Cersei might say if she would hear him say all of that. Then again she didn't need to say that to know all the insults Cersei had for Elia, not after "she stole Rhaegar" as his sister had put it. Back then he had just sat there and stared at Cersei's beauty, nodding absent mindedly. Now, he knew he'd jump in to defend Elia, and that brought forth more guilt. 

However, there was no time to think about that, he had a castle to take. That was why he had decided to take the command after all, he needed to be away from Elia and the rest for a while, until he could get a grasp on what on Earth he would do next about the whole mess. So far he had no idea. A part of him hoped that maybe Elia would just disregard the whole thing and move on, thought remembering the hurt face she had, he doubted it, and he felt even more guilty about leaving her like that.

He was finally brought out of his thought as the small beach came into view. When they passed the isle they had discovered to their fortune that on the west of the castle, there was a small and isolated beach right under the castle. Better yet, the beach had no towers on the walls directly above it, as no doubt the defenders expected any attacks to come from the other side where an army could actually deploy, where as here only a very small group could gather. No doubt any defenders expected not to be taken by surprise by a small group landing here. If they thought so, they were wrong, Jaime thought as his boat slowly oared it's way to the beach. Slowly and silently they reached the beach. When the boat finally came into contact with the sand, Jaime quietly jumped out of the boat, quickly followed by the rest of the men. Around them the same thing happened nine and ten more times. No one said a thing as they slowly made their way up the beach, eventually coming to a stop right below the cliff. The cliff and then the walls were now directly above them, fifty feet of rock and wall. Whispering, he told three of the men to get him Ser Barristan and Anders Yronwood.

Ser Barristan, much like himself had volunteered to join on this little expedition. Lord Anders Yronwood on the other hand, had been pretty much ordered to do so, no doubt as punishment over his comments about little Quentyn Martell. Jaime suspected that the man was one step away from losing the wardenship he had been given as recompense for his father's death at the hands of the Red Viper. So he had been sent with Jaime on this little mission and ordered to keep the isle and direct the raiding effort on the mainland once the island was captured, no doubt to keep him away from both the heat of the future action and from Sunspear. To add insult to injury, the man had been placed directly under Jaime, though Jaime hoped to at least make it up to the man by giving him the most men under his command for the upcoming fight. Whatever else, the man was a competent fighter. So he waited in silence for his two disgraced subordinates, the sound of crickets being the only one heard, that and an occasional muffling as the men moved.

Eventually the two of them arrived, brought by the two men he had sent.

"Ser Jaime." they both said a little stiffly, Yronwood no doubt offended to be put under a Ser and Barristan no doubt bitter to be put under the Kingslayer that was still part of the Kingsguard where as he was not. For now at least, he thought remembering the last conversation he had with Elia.

"Ser Barristan, Lord Yronwood, are all the men here?"

"They are." Ser Barristan replied "Twenty boats, present and counted."

"Good. In that case, Ser Barristan, you will take one hundred men and secure the two guards barracks you told me you saw the last time you were here. I trust you still know their general location coming from this side. Your men will scale the wall first. And remember lock in the guards, don't kill them." Jaime didn't have any qualms about killing soldiers, however killing men while they were sleeping just didn't sit right with him.

"Yes, Ser." Ser Barristan replied.

"Good, I will take another fifty men and we'll secure the main keep and hopefully Lord Estermont too. Lord Yronwood, you will take the remaining men and secure the gatehouses and all other locations. You will climb last. Likewise as Ser Barristan, capture rather than kill."

"Very well, Ser." Lord Yronwood replied stiffly.

"Well, in that case, Ser Barristan, get your men ready." he said. With a simple nod, his former brother quickly went about getting the six boats that would entail and preparing them. All total, they had almost one climbing hook and rope per each man, though given the size of the beach, Jaime doubted they could use more than then fifty of the ropes. Indeed, looking at the men Ser Barristan had gathered, he saw only a little over half of them quietly gathering in line under the wall, between the two masses of jagged rock that separated their little beach from everything else on this island.

Then, one after the other the men threw their grappling hooks and threw them towards the ramparts. Another idea brought forward by Lucerys Velaryon as it happened. Grappling hooks, he knew, were usually used for boarding ships. He had never heard of them being used for scaling walls, but he had to admit, that at least on paper the principle was sound. However as the hooks went for their targets, one could easily see the difference between theory and practice. While he couldn't really see well in the moon light, if he was to judge, he'd say only around a third of the grappling hooks had found home and stock between the crenellations. The rest fell back towards the ground, one of them hitting their owner quite noisily. It took at least five more attempts until every hook had found home, and by now Jaime suspected a few guards might be alerted.

Quietly he gave the order and the men started climbing, their arms supporting them on the rope, and their feet used to climb the cliffs and then the wall. Slowly they made their way through the thirty odd feet between the beach and the top of the crenellations. By now, to Jaime at least, the noise made by the grunts and the sounds of boots on wall were so loud he was sure someone must have heard. And yet no reaction came from the Wall. And as the men made their way to the top By the lack of reaction he guessed there was no one there for the night. Maybe the Lord had the bright idea to throw a feast after repelling the raiders, he thought to himself as some of the mean climbed over the crenellations. After a moment sounds of rope being pulled out and tied could be heard, and soon after, the rope ladders the men had been carrying on the backs were let loose towards the ground.

At that, the rest of Barristan's men started climbing, this time using the ladders, as such moving faster and more quietly. It wasn't long until they took were out of sight over the wall. Seeing as they were up, Jaime gave a whispering command and was the first man up the rope ladder in front of him. His first thought was that this looked much easier than it actually was, as the ropes moved around with every step Jaime took. He could only count his fortunes that he had never been afraid of height. Years of being at the Rock, and occasionally plunging into the water from the top of said Rock, had made the heights here seem benign and unthreatening. So, trying his best to ignore the wobbling, he made his way, until he reach the crenellations and the top of the outer wall.

Looking around he saw a pair of dead guards, thought from the silence, he guessed they hadn't had the time to raise the alarm. Looking away from the courtyard below, where he noticed Barristan and his men were already making their way to lock in the barracks, he turned his eyes on the castle. He soon found what he was looking for in the form of what, given the size of it, could only be the main keep. Looking around, he quickly noticed that the way to it was through a medium sized door in the main courtyard, that however seemed unlocked from the night. Jaime could only scoff at the poor security. If his father ever saw something like that he'd whip everybody in the castle for a day, and that would be in Casterly Rock, a castle that could probably be held by just twenty people manning the Lion's Mouth. With a castle such as this to have such lax security... Jaime thought his father would probably reenact the Reins of Castamere for such a lack of preparations. Still it wasn't like he was going to give security advices to the garrison of Greenshit as he had dubbed the castle on the way here, a nickname that had quickly caught on with the sailors.

Wordlessly he quickly made for one of the stairs going down from the rampant into the courtyard below. His men quickly followed him. As they passed through the deserted courtyard only a small clash of steel could be occasionally heard, yet no general activity. Around them there was no one besides a corpse here and there, Barristan's men having no doubt passed this way before. Finally as they reached the end of the courtyard, and only a large rectangular building, that Jaime could only guessed was the armory, stood between them and the gate to the Keep, the alarm was finally sounded. Far too late, Jaime knew. Dispensing with the subtlety, Jaime begun running towards towards the gate of the Keep.

They found the gate closed but not locked. Oathkeeper in his hand he opened the gate, knowing the lack of fighting was not going to continue. As he opened the gate he found two startled guards on the other side. With a shout he jumped to engage. Both managed to draw their swords before he was upon them, doing a half decent job at parrying his attacks. As their swords clash, Jaime couldn't help but think that this is where he was truly in his element, with a sword in and, his opponent having another. Then again these weren't any great opponents. After three parries, he quickly noticed that they were both sitting on the defensive, not daring to attack, just trying to stay alive against him.

Using that he quickly jumped to one side, so that he was now facing just one of them. As he predicted his companion, focused on the defensive did not immediately jump to engage him, allowing Jaime too full parries with him. It was enough to use his speed to find a gap, and drive Oathkeeper through he man's chest, who immediately collapsed dead. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his soldiers had barely entered the gate as he engaged the other guard. As he charged, he noticed the man was scarred shitless. His grip was weak because of that, and in just four strikes, his sword was on the ground.

"Now," he said, pointing his sword to the man's throat "where are the lord's chambers?" he asked, pushing Oathkeeper a bit as to draw a bit of blood. The man looked fit to piss himself, and Jaime wasn't sure he didn't, thought he couldn't tell with the only source of light being a couple of torches on the walls.

"Third f...floor, my... my lord." the man managed to stamper through his fear.

"Thank you." he replied, putting on his most dangerous smile "You six." he said pointing at six of the men who had just entered through the open door "Guard this one," he pointed at the terrified guard "and make sure nobody get through that door that isn't a friend."

"Yes, Ser" they all replied at once.

"Good. Everyone else, with me!!" he said raising his voice so he could be heard. _No need to be discreet now._

Looking around he quickly saw a large circular staircase, through which he begun to climb, accompanied by the rest of his men. When they arrived at the first level, he ordered ten men to secure it, doing the same when they arrived at the second one. When they finally arrived at the third floor, he ordered another ten men to go secure the upper floors and the rookery, while he and another fifteen men went to what he had been told where the Lord's chambers. Opening the door in the circular staircase, he quickly saw a long hallway, illuminated by torches. Somewhere in the middle there was a large wooden door guarded by two guards. _So the man was telling the truth_ , he thought as he advanced. The two guards, rushed towards them as soon as they saw them, seemingly unconcerned by how vastly outnumbered they were. _Brave, but foolish_ , he couldn't help but think as he engaged them.

One of the engaged him, while the other engaged one of the men. After just two parries he managed to split the man's sword with Oathkeeper's valyrian steel, before plunging the sword in the man's belly. Turning around, he as the other guard was similarly killed, though he noticed that he had taken one of his men with him. No matter, he thought as he moved towards the door and opened it. Beyond it, he quickly saw the grand bedroom. For the mighty castle of Greenshit, it certainly fit the part. The place was more luxurious then his cell in the White Sword Tower, though not by much, and way under the guest rooms in Sunspear. However, his attention was more distracted by the hilarious sight of the inhabitants. Hidden under the coverts was obviously a woman, her hair being seen coming out from atop the sheets. Near the bed, a half naked man was desperately trying to quickly put his tunic on. It was not hard to ascertain that they had been well and truly at it until very recently.

"Who are you?" the half naked man asked, poorly trying to hide his fear behind a veneer of authority in his voice. Jaime thought of several answers 'Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard', 'Jaime son of Tywin' or just 'Jaime Lannister'. _I think 'The Kingslayer' would be most recognizable though_ , he thought darkly. Eventually however he decided against it.

"Given I'm the one with the sword, I'd ask you the same."

"Ser Aemon Estermont." the man replied very quickly.

"Are you by any chance in charge of this fine castle?"

"Yes I am" the man said, trying to stand up straight and look more imposing, an effect somewhat diminished however by his breeches, who while mercifully covered him were still untied, and the tunic that he wore, which he still hadn't put one of his arms through.

"Very well, get dressed. You're surrendering the castle."

The man gulped at that, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looking around a few times, before finally nodding in defeat.

"Very well." he said stiffly as he put his remaining arm in the sleeve and somewhat adjusted his tunic. After moving on to tie his breeches and then procuring a cloak, the man looked somewhat presentable.

"Come on." Jaime said as he was finished "You're announcing your surrender." Estermont said nothing at that, just nodding grimly, and allowing Jaime and the men surrounding to lead him on. By the time they exited the rooms, judging from the sounds, it seemed as if the main keep had already been fully taken, so they made their way down the staircase, towards the yard. They passed the main gate of the Keep, where he saw the corpse of the guard he had killed was still there, though his terrified comrade was now absent. As they made their way to the yard, he could see why, as the prisoners were sitting together, guarded by around a dozen guards. Even there there seemed to be no fighting, a little to Jaime's disappointment. _I've brought Aemon the Turtleknight here for nothing it seems._ However, he then recalled his orders for Ser Barristan. Might as well put him to use somehow

"Where are the barracks?" he asked.

"Right this, my lord." the man said through gritted teeth, moving to the right. They followed him in silence, through another courtyard, a body here and there in this one too, until they arrived at two neighboring long building, that were no doubt the barracks. At the doors stood, Barristan and his men, and a large pile of material was in front of the doors, no doubt to make sure nobody gets out. At seeing them, his former brother quickly marched towards them.

"Ser Jaime" he said, no doubt answering the question in the young Estermont's head.

"Ser Barristan, may I present you Aemon Estermont. Make sure he orders the surrender of the men, then send them along to the courtyard with the other prisoners."

"And you?" Barristan asked.

"I'm going to the rookery. I need to report the castle's been taken and see if there's any information worth it." he said as he quickly moved away, letting Barristan deal with the Turtleknight and the barracks. He made his way back to the Keep in silence, quickly arriving at the rookery, where he saw the castle Maester flanked by four guards.

"Ser Jaime" they all said with a small bow, which Jaime ignored. Having people bow to him was still probably the strangest part of the whole 'command' thing.

"So, Maester..."

"Harris, my lord." the man quickly replied. He was middle aged, with a bald patch, Jaime saw, thought still fit and with clever eyes.

"Did you send a raven saying the castle was under attack?" he asked straight to the point.

"I did, my lord, at noon when your ships raided the isle." the man said evasively.

"And now?"

"Well, my lord..." the man started squirming.

"Speak! I will not punish you. Did you send a raven this night announcing our attack?"

"I did, my lord." the man replied, and it took all Jaime had not to sight. He knew that whatever choice he took in taking the castle, odds were that the enemy would receive a raven, thought he had hoped that mayhaps they would get lucky. Alas it was not to be.

"Very well. Now, did you receive any raven before and which I may find relevant. Keep in mind, that having taken this keep you now serve me. I have no problem executing oathbreakers." he said threateningly, moving Oathkeeper a bit so the man could see the Valyrian steel better. The maester quickly considered his options, he saw, before finally speaking, a hint of defeat in his voice.

"We did, my lord, tonight a raven came from Bronzegate, from your father." Bronzegate, so my father is in the Stormlands already, he thought. He knew this could only mean bad news.

"Hand it over." he ordered briskly.

"At once, my lord." the maester said, quickly shuffling through the parchments he had on a table to give him a raven scroll. Looking at the seal, he immediately recognized the gold lion. The message was a bog standard one, asking for any intel on them and inquiring about the food and water situation. Still the implications were worrying, to say the least.

"Leave us, I have some messages to write." he told the guards and the maester, who quickly complied and shuffled out of the rookery. Writing had never been his favorite activity, and his mind still sometimes mixed letters around, but he wasn't going to trust the maester to write them for him. Loyal to the keep they may be, but who wouldn't want to help the family who they had served for years or decades.

So, he quickly sat down on the table and begun to write a message for Elia, detailing everything that had happened, their plan, the execution and what he had heard about his father. When he finally finished that part, he took a pause. That his father was at Bronzegate could only mean one thing. War was coming to Dorne. Of course he had always known that sooner or later that would happen, and Doran's spies had informed them that it would in fact be his father coming, that was one of the reasons why he had volunteered to take this castle, so he would not face his father. Well that and all the confusing emotions he felt about Elia.

But know, all those emotions gave way to just fear. _This was it_ , he knew. His father was coming. Oberyn would soon engage him with his mad plan, and the fate of this war would be decided. If they won, the Baratheon would no longer have any significant support, and he knew half the Reach would take up arms for them at such a victory. If they lost however... He shuddered at the thought. He would probably be alive at the end of it, he doubted his father would kill him, but Elia and the children, he almost couldn't imagine it.

And yet he could, as images of the Sack came unbidden back into his mind, of Elia trapped under Gregor Clegane and little Aegon with his head bashed in against the wall. He knew that would happen again if they lost, only this time his father would finish the job. And he wouldn't be there to protect Elia this time. He remembered what Elia said to him, claiming he was a good and decent man for everything he had done. And yet was he? Would a good and decent man run away like this, leaving Elia to whatever fate had in store for her? He still didn't know what to think about what had happened after between the two of them. He didn't know what to do now either. And yet as he thought back to Elia's suffering, and at the knowledge of the coming danger, he knew the answer to both those questions. He made a note in his head to leave Yronwood in charge when he left first thing in the morning, and dipped the quill in the ink, and wrote one last sentence.

_Sorry I was an idiot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not a lot to comment on this chapter, other than the fact that the storm is coming. There's gonna be two more bottle chapters, one of Elia and another of Stannis, before we dive in to the battles. And yes I said battles as in plural. Sure Tywin is coming, but things are about to go down in the Vale too.
> 
> In the meantime, keep in mind that the author feed on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	23. Elia V

"So, what does Lannister say?" Oberyn asked as soon as she touched the raven.

"Oberyn, I've just begun reading it, have a little patience." she said with a chuckle, trying to mask her nervousness at any potential news. Whatever had happened between Jaime and her, it didn't seem to matter right then. _I just hope he wasn't hurt._ While she knew he had been a bit of an idiot going on the mission, she couldn't help but feel this was her fault, and that it would be her fault if something happened to him. _Why did I have to kiss him?_ she wondered then, like she had done for the past few days. It had felt so right then and there, and Jaime had certainly reciprocated, yet now, she couldn't help the second doubts. 

Focusing away from that, she begun reading, trying not to show any of her nervousness at any potential bad news, thought from the calculated look Doran gave her, he knew that in his case at least it was a lost cause. _He probably wanted to see my reaction too_ , she thought as she read. After all, why else invite both her and Oberyn to his study for a raven, when he could have either opened it himself and passed the information on, or sent a servant with it to her. Just another of his little games. And yet, that annoyance quickly faded as she read the raven.

"Ser Jaime has captured Greenstone with minimal casualties." she said as she read that part, trying not to grin too much, though by the questioning look in Oberyn's eyes she could see he wasn't fooled for a second. Not that she cared all that much in that moment. "Apparently it was a surprise night attack."

"Was it?" he brother asked curiously "How so? The fleet would have been visible for a long time and taking a beach or a port by surprise would not be the same thing as taking a castle by surprise"

"Says here they did a diversionary attack at midday of the harbor, went away and returned in the night, taking the defenders by surprise." she read, feeling an unmistakable sense of fulfillment at Jaime's accomplishment.

"Reminds me of an old story I heard in Essos about a wooden rabbit." Oberyn said with a smirk. _Gods be good, tell me 'wooden rabbit' isn't a metaphor for anything_ , however, given that the rabbit was famous for it's prodigious bradding, outmatched only by Oberyn's, she doubted it.

"It does say here that they thought of the strategy from Lord Velaryon's travels, so maybe there's that." she said diplomatically, not in the mood for another of Oberyn's dirty stories, at the same time sending a warning look to Oberyn, who just raised his shoulders innocently at that. At the head of the study, opposite to where her and Oberyn were standing, she could see Doran smiling fondly at the interaction between Elia and Oberyn. _Maybe it wasn't just about playing games with me_ , she thought at that.

"Anyways," she said, continuing to read the message "they captured most of the garrison and Aemon Estermont, Lord Estermont's son and heir."

"Can we use that?" Oberyn asked both Doran and Elia at the same time. Elia, not being the one with the spy network, simply looked at Doran waiting for a reply as well.

"We can use it for the propaganda value as we decided before, given these are Robert Baratheon's kin, but I'm sure Ser Jaime included it already in the raven we ordered him to send after capturing the castle." he said. That had been one of the more debated decisions they had made, with Jaime and her thinking stealth would be more useful, while Doran and Oberyn argued that gloating about the Usurper not being able to protect his family would be far more useful then keeping secret something that would be discovered almost immediately. Eventually, Doran and Oberyn's arguments had won out. "However the potential of enraging Robert Baratheon to the point that he does something stupid, I don't see how the capture of the man affects anything really. Lord Estermont, the only one really affected by the capture, is Robert Baratheon's kin afterall, so I doubt he will betray him."

"Alright so, we can't really use Estermont." she said, going back to reading. "Fuck!" she couldn't help but let out as she read further.

"What is it?" Oberyn asked.

"Tywin Lannsiter is at Bronzegate! Wasn't he supposed to take more time?!" At neither Doran or Oberyn had anything to say, though given how Oberyn rose from his chair and started pacing, she could guess he did have plenty to say, only it wasn't constructive and she didn't need to hear it.

"He was." Doran finally said with a sigh after a while "There's only one explanation. He must have continued marshalling his troops during the false peace. We assumed he'd kept the ten thousand with which he sacked the capital and that he dismissed the others. Given the speed of it all, I think it's clear that is not the case."

"And your spies didn't report that?" she couldn't help but ask, trying to avoid sounding accusatory.

"No doubt they did, but most of them are in King's Landing. Tywin must have only recently been there. No doubt in a few days the reports will come trickling in."

"Either that, or your network is compromised." Elia said, still trying to sound neutral. However it might sting their pride, they did need to take such an option in consideration. "They do now know we have one after Jon Arryn's trial." she continued.

"Fair point." Doran acknowledged "However I doubt it matters for now. Tywin Lannsiter is coming." her older brother said with vitriol in his voice at the name of the man, for once unable to hide his emotions, thought Elia doubted she sounded much better when talking about him. Memories of the Sack still haunted her, just thinking of Aegon and... _No!_ she willed herself to stop. _I cannot focus on the past now. The present and the future is all that matters._ Tywin was coming and she would have her revenge. Maybe then the nightmares would abate.

"Aye, he is." she replied solemnly, stopping the awkward break that had formed "How does this affect our plans? Can he rush our defenses?"

"No." Oberyn said with his clastic certainty, thought there wasn't any of the arrogance or usual cocksure demeanor there now, just cold determination. "The Wyls are in position to do what they always done best." he said, and Elia didn't know if to be happy or concerned that a family with such a dark reputation was on their side. She thought of the one handed survivors of the First Dornish War, would she have done something like that? Against Tywin Lannister, she knew she would have done much worse, but for his underlings she was unsure. However she remembered the Sack. What had happened had been on Tywin's orders, sure, but those men had still committed all those horrors. What did they deserve for that? She wasn't sure.

"And the rest of our army?" she asked. She partly knew the answer, even though it had been Oberyn and Doran mostly taking care of the military matters, however a refresher was never a bad idea.

"Some of them are in position already. The rest are scattered throughout Dorne, the biggest contingent being the one right here. However they should all reach Yronwood in time." _Yronwood_ , she thought darkly, _this is the place that will either make or brake us. If we win, the tides of the war will turn. If we lose however, the war will turn into a bloody slog of attrition, no better then the first two Dornish wars._ They might still win even then, but at what cost? No, she couldn't allow herself to think like that. Oberyn's plan was insane, but it was the right kind of insane, the brilliant type.

"And the arrows?" Most of the available workforce had toiled for several moons already for those arrows, she knew, but given the scale of what Oberyn was proposing, she couldn't help but feel that they wouldn't be enough.

"We won't have as many as I'd like." Oberyn said with a slightly grim face "But we should have enough."

"So you don't foresee any change in the plans due to this new development?"

"No I do not." Oberyn replied evenly "However we will need to move fast, I will depart with our forces first thing tomorrow."

"No, _we_ will depart first thing tomorrow." Elia said as firmly as possible, hoping her tone to be enough to stop a debate. However those hopes were quickly dashed by Oberyn.

"What? Elia, have you been drinking?" Oberyn japed, trying to hide his obvious shock and fear at that. She couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"No Oberyn, I have not been drinking. However I need to be there." she said firmly.

"Elia," Doran begun as well "your presence there might help the morale of the men, however you'd put yourself in too much of a risk. You're the linchpin holding our cause together. The tensions regarding Jaehaerys are already here, and the question of who will rule is ever present." he said.

"Jaehaerys and Rhaenys will rule together." she said firmly. They had debated that already. There was no way Rhaenys would ever be the sole monarch, she knew, but she wasn't going to let her girl become just a Quuen Consort, a fanciful name for a powerless broodmare. She had seen what that had done to Rhaella, and to a lesser extent, to herself. She would not have her daughter be as powerless as she was. The only option then was corulership.

"Yes, and they will, as long as you are there to ensure it Elia. Without you, the Dornish nobles might demand to make Rhanys the sole ruler, or even cancel the betrothal. And if they do that there will be no way the rest of Westeros supports us. Beyond Dorne, co rulership is the most people will accept, and anything less and the Dornish nobles would no longer support us. We need you to maintain this delicate balance" he said, and Elia knew the truth of he said, to a point at the very least.

"Yes, and if I die, you will be here to ensure that the fragile peace is maintained. You might fool others that you're weak and ineffectual, Doran, but not me."

"This is irrelevant," Oberyn butted in "you will not die Elia, because you will not be risking yourself needlessly."

"I'm not going to fucking fight Oberyn!" she said, losing her temper for a moment, before taking a deep breath and continuing "And I promise you I'll stay clear of danger. But I need to be there. I need to see it." _I need to see what becomes of the people responsible for the Sack_ , she left unsaid.

"Elia..." her younger brother begun.

"No Oberyn, I need to be there. I stood once locked away inside a castle while in the outside world war was happening. No more." she said, as she with as much steel in her voice as possible, trying to maintain her composure, thinking of the days as a glorified hostage under Aerys. "I cannot fight and even if I could, I know I wouldn't. I'm not a fool, however I am a leader whether I like it or not, and I need to be there."

Oberyn looked at her for a while, conflicted, until he finally let out a long suffering sigh.

"You will take a guard of fifty men at all times, Sunspear guards." he finally said.

"Oberyn, I think fifty men is a little too much."

"Fifty men, not a single one fewer." her brother replied firmly.

"Fine." she let out an exasperated sigh at that, prompting a small chuckle from Oberyn. "So, we'll depart tomorrow. You said we'll have enough arrows. Can we transport them too?"

"Yes, we have gathered enough horses and mules to carry them, both to the battlefield and during the battle itself."

"So that should be all about the upcoming battle." she said, to which both her brothers nodded.

"Pretty much." Doran replied "Is there anything else in the letter?" he asked, pointing to the currently discarded scroll, which she had forgotten for a moment.

"I think so." she said a bit sheepishly at her slip up n forgetting about the scroll for a moment "Let me check" she added as she picked it up "Ser Jaime says he's coming here, though he left most of the force behind to begin raiding the Rainwood."

"Alas I don't think we can wait for him." Oberyn said with a knowing look in her direction.

"No, we cannot." Much as she'd like to have him by her side, she couldn't allow her wants to get in the way of the battle. For a brief moment she considered staying after all before deciding against it. _Jaime or no Jaime I will not sit back again._ "Though we could order him to come to us with sped, maybe he could reach us before the battle. Having another Kingsguard knight besides Ser Gerold should help with the morale." she said, trying to give only the logical arguments, and not the selfish ones. In truth, even if he rejected her, he wanted Jaime by her side. She could only hope that she hadn't driven him away for good.

"I'll see to it when he arrives" Doran replied neutrally.

"Oh, and he says that he left Yronwood in charge of the castle, taking care of supplies and organization." she said, accentuating the last part. She didn't have any doubt that this was Doran's hand.

"Honestly, what did the man do?" Oberyn asked with a smirk "I mean sending him to greet me, sending him on this mission and now leaving as a glorified castellan to a Gods forsaken castle. Not that I'm complaining mind you, the man's a right ol' cunt but still..."

"He was making trouble." Doran replied evenly, the same voice as flat as the Dornish deserts "Complaining about his part in the war, and suggesting Quentyn would be a better heir than Arianne. A warning was needed, both for him and for others."

"That and I presume he needed to be kept away from the fight?" Elia asked.

"Precisely. He can hardly demoralize our men or worse, plot treason, when he's taking care of a nothing island in the Narrow Sea."

"Well done, brother." Oberyn said, a clear grudging respect in his voice "Now, did your white knight write anything else?" he asked to her, to which she did her best not to blush.

"No, that was all." she replied even though the truthful answer was 'yes'. Jaime's last line however was for her, and it made her heart soar. "Sorry for being an idiot." he said, and Elia felt truly happy then. _Maybe there's a chance for the two of us_ , she thought. She was in truth beyond happy that he wasn't rejecting her.

That had been her fear ever since he departed, that not only had he rejected her, but that their ties were severed, all because of her recklessness. To read his words, she could finally feel hope that she hadn't mucked it up. At that, the part of her wanting to stay behind grew larger, however she still decided against it. _I need to be there, and those words are enough to keep me going. More than enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a pretty short chapter today, as we prepare to move on to the battles. Also, even though they won't reunite for now, at least Jaime and Elia have somewhat mended things and are ready to move on.
> 
> Anyways, next time we'll be getting a truly special POV, Stannis, and see him start tapping into the Mannis.
> 
> Until then, keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	24. Stannis I

A storm was raging outside the walls of the Red Keep as the Small Council gathered. The storm was unusual in its intensity, brining back old memories for Stannis. The first was the memory of the night when the Targaryen Fleet had attacked King's Landing. The attack was a sore memory for Stannis. They had all been overconfident then that the war was over, and that all they would have to do with the remaining Targaryen forces was kick in the door, and the whole rotten structure would come down, as Tywin Lannister had so eloquently put it. They had all failed to expect Dorne continuing the fight, or the Dragonstone garrison and fleet going on the offensive. But they should have, himself included. He promised himself then that he would not be caught unawares again, though given the raven in front of him, the Targaryens had done just that, again.

However, more than even that night, the storm brought back memories of that fateful day, six years ago atop Storm's End, as the Windproud was smashed upon the rocks of Shipbreaker Bay under one of the worst storms he had ever seen, his parents upon that ship. He could still recall it perfectly, every detail as clear as it had been on that day, watching it all from atop Storm's End, Robert by his side. Stannis often tried not to think of those memories, he would not dwell on the past. However that was proving a challenge, with the raven the Kingslayer sent, bringing back memories to his mother, a mother that Stannis would in his darkest moments admit he missed just as much as Renly, if not more.

The Kingslayer... Stannis felt the need to grit his teeth just thinking of the man, a cold rage entering his body. One of the few things Stannis and Robert had agreed upon after Stark had lifted the siege and he had come to King's Landing was that the Kingslayer needed to be either dead or at the Wall. Stannis suspected that Robert hadn't agreed due to the man breaking his oaths, but rather because he kept them, protecting the Princesses, and later killing Ned Stark as a part of his duty. But now, Stannis too wanted him dead for more than just breaking his vows. A part of him was angry at himself, for not anticipating such a move, though with Dorne's limited resources, the move still didn't make sense, expending valuable resources for an island that at best could serve as a raiding base for the Rainwood. However, he was angrier at the Kingslayers obvious taunting, and defiance of them, attacking the Stormlands, and Stannis's mother's home with impunity. A part of him wanted to borrow a leaf out of Robert's book, not that Robert ever read one, and go to Greenstone, with two warhammers in his hands, and kill the Kingslayer with his right hand and Barristan Selmy with his left. However, unlike Robert, he knew even imagining as such was folly.  
  
So instead here he was, in the Small Council Chamber, waiting for Robert alongside Lord Estermont as well as Pycelle and Varys, two men Stannis held in the outmost contempt, and as he looked at them it was easy for him to remember why. Pycelle was still playing the doddering fool act, pretending to be asleep, no doubt hoping to learn some information to send back to his master. The man was the worst kind of lickspite in Stannis's opinion. Varys on the other side was even worse, wearing his usual colorful robes, a strong perfume clinging on him as if he was one of Robert's whores. The man had a detached, mysterious smile on his face, looking like he was wistfully reminiscing about his long lost manhood. 

Stannis would have had them both executed if it was up to him, Pycelle for betraying his duty to his King and allowing Tywin Lannister to sack the city, and Varys for everything he did for Aerys. Stannis would never trust men like this. The only person currently at the table whom he trusted was his kin, Eldon Estermont, the Lord of Greenstone, and currently the Master of Laws. The man wore a scrawl that was probably deeper than even Stannis's, not that he could blame him considering the circumstances. Howler, for now all they could do was wait for Robert to arrive so that they might get down to business. With any luck that would happen that very day.

However, in a small twist of irony Stannis couldn't help but notice, at that very moment his older brother chose to appear, the large oaken door to the Small Council chamber opening to announce his presence, before the Demon of the Trident walked in. _Speak of the demon and he shall appear_ , Stannis though dryly. As his brother walked the length of the chamber towards the empty seat at it's head, the one reserved for the King situated opposite his own, Stannis couldn't help but notice that even at this time, halfway through the afternoon, his brother was already half drunk if the way he walked was any indication.

"Stannis, you grim cunt," Robert begun in his usual bombastic manner, though with an annoyed edge in his voice, as he took his seat, causing Stannis to grit his teeth in annoyance "what on Earth did you summon me for?"

"This." he said, as he took the Kingslayer's letter in which he bragged about how he took Grenstone and mocked the Baratheons for their inability to defend their bannermen or even their kin, and passed it along to Robert. Robert looked confused as he was passed the parchment, however the look of confusion quickly passed an was replaced by one of anger on Robert's face. _And now for Robert's usual response_.

"I'll kill that fucking golden cunt myself." Robert growled dangerously.

"Your Grace, Jaime Lannister..." Pycelle started.

"WILL DIE, no matter what your master says about that, you decrepit fucker." Robert spat, his voice booming at the man. Stannis couldn't agree with the language, though he definitely agreed with the sentiment. Pycelle only woke up to prattle about the Lannisters like a Septon would prattle about the Seven.

"Of course, Your Grace." the man mumbled, his voice sleepy from pretense.

"Good, Stannis, how many men do we have at the ready?" his older brothers asked, his voice calmer thought still inebriated.

"Ten thousand mostly Stormlanders, eight thousand foot, two thousand mounted." he replied, already pondering what he should do to prevent Robert from doing something foolish. It was at times like this that he most sorely missed Jon Arryn, the man had the power to calm Robert down, even if he was proven to be far less honorable and dutiful than he appeared to be. 

"Good, I will take five thousand men and march on Estermont."

"The soldiers may believe you can walk on water, Robert, but how exactly do you think you'll bypass the Targaryen fleet to attack the island?" he asked directly. Robert only growled in response, no doubt seeing the reason in what he said and hating it, as usual.

"Mayhaps we should try and break the Targaryen naval hold." Lord Estermont proposed instead "Could we try and build another fleet?"

"No," Stannis replied "out shipyards are still not fully restored, and even if they were we lack the money needed for such an investment."

"How about any of the other remaining fleets? The Ironborn and the Redwyne primarily. Didn't the Ironborn declare for us?" his great uncle asked.

"Quellon Greyjoy did indeed declare for us, my lord." Varys begun, his voice as sweet as honey, though far less appealing "However, regrettably, he died on the Mander, so now his son Balon is Lord Reaper of Pyke, and far less accommodation to what he sees as greenlanders."

"So the Redwynes cannot sent all their fleet out either, even if they were so disposed, which they won't be." Stannis wouldn't admit it, but a part of him actually hoped for them to rebel. The memories of the siege of Storm's Enf had not been washed the the interceding moons, and he could not forget watching the Redwyne ships moving lazily across Shipbreaker Bay, the ships fat, slow and lazy, much like their ever feasting liege lord, all while Stannis and Renly starved inside. He doubted his hatred for Mace Tyrell, or to a lesser extent Paxter Redwyne would ever go away.

"Maybe we can order them regardless?" the Lord of Greenstone asked.

"Very well." Robert replied "Pycelle, send a raven to the Arbor, demanding Paxter Redwyne mobilize his fleet and fight the Targaryens. Should he not I'll smash his island with my hammer. And in the meantime, what will we be doing about Greenstone?"

"We can't do anything for now Robert. Let them be. It's for the best, the Dornish have exhausted manpower and will exhaust even more trying to hold the island, manpower they desperately need to hold off Lannister. The less manpower they have in Dorne the less they'll be able to defend against Lannister." In truth, Stannis didn't understand it. The island did have a strategic position, in perfect reach of the Rainwood, and would probably allow the Dornish a good springboard to raid the Rainwood, or even invade further, into Tarth or the Raindwood. And yet the risk was also there. Taking the isle with less than two thousand men would be folly, Stannis judged, two thousand men the Dornish would sorely miss.

"My lord, you cannot mean to say such an invasion is a good thing?" Estermont answered back with a bit of shock in his voice. Stannis's wasn't sure what to say at that, instead opting to clench his teeth.

"Of course he doesn't." Robert stepped in "However he does have a point that in this foolish act the Dornish have hastened their own demise." Robert quickly intervened to lighten the situation.

"Precisely." Stannis replied stiffly "Now, I imagine that such an attack must have taken at least two thousand men. At the last count the Dornish had thirty thousand men, right Varys?" He was loath to even talk to the eunuch, but even he had to admit that the man had his uses, especially for crucial military information such as this.

"Your memory serves you well, my Lord Hand. My little birds sing of Dorne having mustered five and twenty thousand men and hiring an additional five."

"Which makes the loss of two thousand men hurt their chances against Tywin." he finished telling the Lord of Greenstone. Personally he though that Tywin needed every piece of help he could get. His forces may outnumber the Dornish and be far better equipped and disciplined, but the Dornish were still fighting on home ground. Their spears and sand steeds could bleed Tywin Lannister, he knew.

"Which reminds me Varys, where was the Old Lion?" Robert asked.

"Near Storm's End your grace, last my little birds report. He should be ready to enter Dorne in a little over a fortnight."

"Good!" Robert bellowed as if he was a boar, or at least as if he was struck by one "Finally Lannister can deal with the fucking dragonspawn!"

No one replied at that. By now all the council members had long since grown accustomed to Robert's hatred of the "dragonspawn" as he called them. Stannis though it absolute rubbish, especially given the one most of his hatred resided upon. Rhaegar. Robert was still deluding himself that Lyanna Stark had been kidnapped, despite everything else saying the exact opposite. That hatred had been there, he recalled, even when Robert returned to the Stormlands after the fall of Gulltown, though at the time he hadn't had enough time to see just how bad it was. Now, it seemed as Robert hated every last person with the Targaryen name or their blood.

Of course, the only reason Robert was King at all was because their grandmother had been Rhaelle Targaryen and because he had Targaryen blood, though it seemed the irony was lost on Robert. Indeed the one time Stannis had pointed that out, Robert had responded by threatening to give Storm's End to Renly. So this time he didn't dare make he's feelings known, and yet he couldn't help feeling bad every time he though of the so called dragonspawn.

Choosing between Aerys and Robert had been hard enough when Aerys had been a lunatic wanting to burn his family. If told he'd end up going to war with little children, that if Stannis had to admit, had a better claim than Robert, he didn't know what he would chose. Why did Robert have to crown himself? He didn't know for sure, other than maybe bloodlust. If he had been there, he knew he would have insisted for little Aegon to be their claimant, with a regency made up of the rebels. Instead however Robert had been proclaimed King and little Aegon had ended up with his head smashed against the wall by Tywin Lannister's pet. However, it didn't matter anymore. He had made his choice, and however much he regretted it, and he now had a duty to the side he had chosen, a duty he'd see fulfilled.

"Now that that's settled." Robert said more awkwardly like a child caught misbehaving "Is there anything more?"

"Yes," Stannis intervened "I find it doubtful that the Dornish are going to try to occupy anything else other than Estermont, the only nearby targets are the Rainwood and Tarth, Tarth would be hard to take while the Rainwood would be hard to keep. However, I think that they will use Estermont to raid the Rainwood, maybe even set it on fire if the Dornish are trying to replicate the First Dornish War."

"So what do you propose we do about it Stannis? Gods know we cannot really divert soldiers to protect the Rainwood."

"I agree. However, we can do something about it, protecting our people and denying the Dornish loot." _As well as denying them an invasion springboard_ , he thought to himself but didn't say. Tywin Lannister was no doubt certain of his victory, but Stannis was less so. Should the lion lord lose, depriving the Dornish a good invasion ground just might give them the necessary time to muster another force and oppose them. "I say we evacuate the Rainwood, take all the men and food."

"And take them where?" Estermont asked.

"Crow's Rest, I'd say. The castle has a large, fortified, usually abandoned town around it with a fresh water source. If we overcrowd it, we should be able to house a significant portion of the population of the Rainwood as well as most of the food in there."

"Sounds like a decent idea." Estermont replied, clearly not particularly bothered with the plight of the smallfolk.

"Fine so be it." Robert replied too.

"Very well, Pycelle, send ravens throughout the Rainwood, the lords, smallfolk and food are to gather at Crow's Rest, and leave as little behind as possible. The costal lords like the Swanns and Wyldes are to have priority."

"Of course my lord."

"Now, is there anything else?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Your Grace." Varys's silky sweet voice made its presence known "I'm not sure whether to bother the Small Council with this..."

"Just spit it out, eunuch!" Stannis spat in frustration.

"Very well. It would appear the war between Myr and Tyrosh has ended quite suddenly, in Tyrosh's favor."

"What do we care about the Free Cities? They go to war and make peace every other day." Robert said.

"Yes, Your Grace, however the manner of this peace is most interesting. It would appear the Golden Company has broken its contract with Myr, forcing said peace."

"So?" Robert asked, his impatience growing in his voice "Are sellswords being craven worthy of being mentioned? They do that all the time, we can only hope the ones hired by the Dornish break contract as well."

"The Golden Company is no usual sellsword company." Stannis replied "They have a reputation of never breaking contract, so them doing so is intriguing."

"Precisely, my lord Hand, though I must say I for one am as equally confused as any as to their purpose." the eunuch replied.

"Whatever it is, I doubt it will matter." Robert cut in "The Golden Company were Blackfyres. They hate the dragonspawn as much as we do, and there's no way they're going to ally with Barristan Selmy." Robert wasn't wrong he knew, the Golden Company had fought three different wars against house Targaryen, and their founder had been none other than Bittersteel. Finally it had been Barristan Selmy that had cut his way through he Golden Company ranks to reach and behead Maelys the Monstrous, ending the Blackfyre line. Still, Stannis did find the behavior of the sellswords odd, even if he could find no explanation.

"Now, do you have anything else for me besides sellswords?" Robert asked. No one said anything to that. "In that case, I think that will be all. Dismissed!" he said in a firm voice. Stannis rose with the other councilors at that, ready to go to his other duties as Hand.

"Not you, Stannis." Robert's voice interrupted before he could think of what else he had to do that day. Stannis was certainly puzzled by that, Robert almost never sought him out, but he made sure not to show it, instead simply remaining in his seat as the others departed. Varys was the first one to be gone, followed quickly by Estermont. Pycelle on the other hand took his time, trudging towards the door, one agonizingly false small step after another, until eventually he too was gone. Finally when all of them were gone, Robert rose from his chair and made for one of the tables on the walls. On it lay a wine pitcher and a couple of cups. Robert quickly took the pitcher and begun to pour.

"Should you be getting drunk halfway in the afternoon?" Stannis couldn't help but ask with a long suffering sigh.

"Oh, piss on that Stannis." Robert said as he took a thirsty gulp of wine, before putting the glass down and poring some more wine. "You're Hand of the King, not a bloody Septa." he said as he made his way back to the chair. He took his seat with a small satisfied groan. "Besides, I can't do much else here, besides counting coppers and drinking. You're the one that convinced me not to go with Tywin and hammer the Dornish."

"Yes Robert, because at best it's going to take forever to subdue Dorne, half a year if Tywin is incredibly lucky." _And if he isn't he might just lose too_ , he left unsaid. "You cannot be away from the capital for that long."

"The capital!" Robert scoffed into his glass before taking another sip "What can I do in the capital besides sit around and drink?"

"You need to be here Robert. The smallfolk need to know you are the King, as do the nobles. The Dornish cannot win in the long term, they know that, their hope is to incite rebellion or secure a quick decisive victory in the field. It's unlikely they can do the latter, but the former is a real possibility, as we see in the North and could see in the Reach. We cannot allow rebellion to fester, and for that you need to be here for the nobles, you need to show yourself a King and you need to father an heir."

"You make it sound so simple, Stannis." Robert replied "Especially the fathering an heir part. Gods be good, Stannis, the woman's limp and dry as a piece of wood in bed." A _nd who's fault is that, brother?_ Stannis remembered how wide eyed Cersei Lannister had been before her wedding, convinced she was already in love with her husband. And then after the wedding something seemed to have snapped, the woman suddenly turning cold. Stannis didn't know what Robert did, but he could only guess it was bad.

"I never wanted this." his brother confessed "I never wanted Cersei Lannister in my fucking bed and I never wanted this ducking crown on my head. Rhaegar," Robert hissed the name like it was a vile swear world "He took it all away when he took Lyanna. He took her away from me, he forced that fucking dragonspawn into her. Her son, Stannis, he should have been my son, and yet here I am fighting him. All because of Rhaegar." he said, and for the first time in a long time Stannis saw some of the vulnerability behind Robert's confident and hateful exterior.

"I killed him, I know." he continued undisturbed, rolling his wine glass. "And yet even so he had the upper hand. He's now with Lyanna, while I'm here, standing on his miserable Throne alone, with Cersei Lannister by my side instead of Lyanna." he said, finally downing the remainders of the glass in one shallow. Stannis didn't know what to truly reply to that.

"What's done is done, Robert, we have a duty to do." he said, trying to bring Robert out of his unusual phase.

"You were always the one for duty, Stannis, not me. Gods, some days I feel like abdicating the damn Throne and leaving you to deal with all this mess. You'd make a far better King than I, that's for sure."

"I honestly doubt it Robert." _Nor would I want the Throne, it's not mine, not while the Targaryens still live._

"How so?" Robert asked as if he expected Stannis to be in agreement on that.

"Maybe I would be a more dutiful King, Robert, but I could never charm the men and the lords like you do." he said, years of bitterness coming out a bit. _I guess we do make quite the bitter pair_ "You could piss in a cup and men would call it wine, but if I offered them clear water they'd snicker and mutter to each other about how queer it tastes."

"Hah! Never though I'd see the day you found a sense of humor." Robert said with a small laugh. _I do have a sense of humor, Robert, it's just not as loud or as blunt as yours._

"Anyways," he said, seeing as the conversation had entered into another awkward pause "I doubt you wanted me here just so we could debate about things that'll never be."

"Oh well, I was just curious, what do you make of the whole development with Estermont."

"I think it was a mistake on the part of the Dornish. I do not share Tywin Lannsiter's hubris, this is going to be a long and bloody affair. Any advantage we can get is well worth it, even if it does mean I want to break the Kingslayer's neck as much as you do."

"Do you think it will hurt us?" Robert asked, still unusually subdued.

"I don't know, I still can't make sense of it, why would the Dornish send so much of their manpower away. It smells of hubris to me. Presuming it is that and not some plan we cannot foresee, I don't think it's any immediate threat. They are going to rain the Rainwood, but there are no castles in the Rainwood important enough to make the cost of taking them worth it, and their only other potential target from there is Tarth, who is defended by Shipbreaker Bay on one side, and has one of the toughest castles in the Stormlands. It could however be a good potential springboard for an all out invasion, should the Dornish defeat Tywin."

"And how likely do you think that is?"

"Very unlikely. I imagine they'll bleed him bad, but I can't see them getting a complete victory. However, I guess all we can do now is wait and see."

"Aye, wait and see." Robert replied solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my take on the Mannis, hope you liked it. This is the last preparation chapter, next time we'll be seeing the first real battle. Where? Well who knows really?
> 
> Also, the battle chapters should be extra thicc, around two times as long as the usual ones.
> 
> In the meantime, keep in mind that the author feeds on kudos, comments and bookmarks. Please support this emotional addiction!


	25. The Blackfish

"My lord, our scouts have just returned to us. Moat Cailin is no more than an hour away," the rider said, and it was music to Brynden's ears. _At long last, this Gods forsaken swamp is ending._

Brynden had believed that he had seen the worst terrain for combat the Gods had to offer on the barren shit stained rocks called the Stepstones and the woody mountains near the Highroad. He had been wrong. So, so wrong. He now knew for a fact, that the swamps of the Neck were the worst terrain imaginable. It was an unholy mix of swamps, mosquitos, and crannogmen arrows.

The campaign had begun well. Despite the Riverlands being depleted by the fighting, he had still managed to gather around ten thousand men to march North and help Cat. The only minor setback had been when Tytos Blackwood had elected to stay in Raventree Hall, and send only half his forces North, citing outlaw problems. Brynden thought it absolute rubbish. What was worse, was that feeling threatened, Janos Bracken had elected to do the same, also sending just half his men and choosing to remain in Stone Hedge. Brynden unfortunately couldn't do anything about it, knowing time was of the essence, with the civil war going on in the North, and Catelyn and her son being threatened.

However beyond that particular hurdle everything had gone smoothly. The army had been assembled, and despite a severe lack of good leaders, with Jason Mallister, Tytos Blackwood and Janos Bracken all staying in their keeps, everything seemed to be going well as the army rushed towards the North. After all, time was of the essence , and they needed to reach the North soon to reinforce his niece against her would be usurper of a brother.

And then, they entered the Neck. Any advantage of time was lost as their army marched in a narrow column, with only five men being able to walk in a single line without squishing his forces. And yet the narrow road wasn't the biggest problem. That would have to be the Crannogmen.

Reports from the North were still unclear as to whom supported whom, only that Cat still held Winterfell. However one thing was clear. The Crannogmen of the Neck had sided against them, with unfortunate results. Ever since they had entered the Neck they had been assaulted by a steady barrage of poisoned darts coming from the tree line. The damage done hadn't been that bad, the number of arrows being limited, but they had bled regardless.

The ones that had suffered the worst had been the elite Blackwood archers Brynden had at his disposal. He had strategically placed them in the vanguard, to clear any force on the road without engaging, however in doing so, they had become especially vulnerable to the Crannogmen arrows. Out of the over five hundred he had at the beginning, only around three remained. Brynden had made two attempts to send some cavalry into the marshes and smoke the archers out. The second time around a few of the men even came back. So the army had to sit and endure the arrow fire.

What made it even worse, was that the arrows seemed to be smeared with some fowl mixture that killed within a day. Soon enough corpses were strung on the puddle by the side of the road, left to decay or be eaten by the beasts of the Neck , yet another problem. As if the inhabitants weren't bad enough, or the unnatural heat this far North, the animals surely were on par with those found in Sothoryos. Several soldiers had gone to take a piss only to be dragged off and killed by creatures that were apparently called lizard lions.

All told, both he and his men were miserable. The heat was making them miserable, that and the fact that they had to wear heavy armor at all times, less they get killed by arrows, the landscape was inhospitable, just the same road flanked by marshy puddles for somewhere between ten and fifty feet before the trees of the swamp consumed the landscape, in in it, the archers. And all the while, the thick air smelling of constant decay made everything worse. How can men live in a place like this? he couldn't help but wonder.

It was in such a situation that the news was very happy indeed. He could already see that the men at arms too had picked up at the next day, that the swampy hell they were passing was finally coming to an end. He wasn't as optimistic as the rest, knowing that now that they were set to leave this hell, the true fight would soon begin, and yet he too was happy. _Give me an enemy I can see and fight over this swampy nightmare any day._

"Is the fortress garrisoned?" he asked, wishing to know what kind of welcome they should expect. _There should be no enemies here, besides the Crannogmen that always seem to fight from the shadows, all the dragon supporters are in the North._ Or at least that had been the last report they had received. Still, a bit of caution never hurt. _The enemy usually doesn't fuck you from behind when you're ready, but rather when you're lax and unprepared._

"It was, my lord. There seemed to be guards on the battlements and there were banners on the towers."

"What banners?"

"The middle tower had a grey wolf's head on a white background," _Stark_ "while on the sides the leaning tower had a black horse's head on a bronze and black background," _Ryswell_ , Brynden noted in his head "while the other one had a pair of longaxes on a yellow background." _So the Dustins as well._ Brynden wasn't overly familiar with the Northern houses, but he knew from the rebellion that houses Ryswell and Dustin were powerful houses, located in the southwestern part of the North. _In other words, very close to here._ He tried remembering the names of the traitor houses. Mormont, Umber, Karstark and Forrester, he seemed to recall.

 _So I guess they are on our side, then_. It made sense. He remembered Mark Ryswell and William Dustin from the war, both nice jovial men, very loyal and very close to Eddard Stark. _Seems only natural that they would support the son of Ned Stark._

"Alright, they seem to be friendly, move along!" he told the men around it, and soon enough the column was moving at an ever faster pace than the breakneck speed they had tried to make before, all eager to be out of the damn swamp.

It took only a little under an hour before Moat Cailin finally came in sight. By now it was later morning and the sun was up in the sky. As if the humid atmosphere and the need to constantly wear armor didn't wear on us enough, Brynden thought to himself. The way towards the fortress was the same as it had been before. The causeway was as it had been for all the road, wide enough for two carriages to pass at the same time, three if you squeezed it. 

On each side lay the marshy ground, filled with high grasses and hidden puddles of water amidst the sea of mud. A bit further on each side, right now about thirty yards further, lay the swamp forest, high trees whose roots diverged high in the air, making it unclear what was root and what was a branch, a confusion made even bigger by the moss covering everything. The air too was the same, thick and humid with mosquitos flying around, biting every piece of exposed flesh they could find. Not that they could, nobody was foolish enough to expose any flesh, not after the first men to die of the poisons, their veins green like everything in the damn place.

Moat Cailin, however, was very much a change of scenery. When Brynden had previously imagined the ancient fortress holding the North and stopping countless Andal invaders, he had always pictured a great fortress on par with the Eyrie or at least the Bloody Gate. The Bloody Gate, was an impressive if slightly small castle, cozying in between the mountains, looking not only like the mountains, but as hard and as impenetrable as them. _Well, at least Moat Cailin does look like the surroundings too, in other words, completely decrepit._

Even from the distance, the three towers still standing looked like a sorry thing indeed. All around what Brynden guessed had once been the fortress, blocks of basalt the size of shacks laid strung around, half submerged in the soft boggy marshland and the tall grass, looking like children's toys left forgotten about. The only structures still standing were three towers.

The central one seemed the best preserved. It looked like it used to be a very large gatehouse, however the nearby walls had almost completely disappeared, only a few feet of the wall still remained on either side. However the gatehouse itself was in good enough condition. It stood perfectly on the causeway, the causeway itself passing through the main gates. _No way to bypass that._ Above the gatehouse flew the Stark banner.

The towers on each side were in a far poorer condition. The one on the left was a normal looking tower, however tilted in such a way it seemed a miracle that the thing had not yet collapsed. The tower on the right, at least stood upright, however it's battlements looked like a huge beast had bitten the top off of them. That one carried the banner of house Dustin, while the tilted one carried the horse banner of House Ryswell, Brynden could see even at this distance.

"Norbert," he said to the head of the Vances of Atranda, who also happened to be one of Brynden's childhood friends. "Ride ahead with a peace banner. We don't want to spook our hosts."

"At once, Brynden," the man said, riding ahead to get a peace banner. Brynden could only hope a stray arrow didn't get him. The horses had been the most affected by the Crannogmen arrows by far, not having the necessary protection to defend themselves. Even now, a few arrows kept appearing, peppering the men, though from the sounds it seemed there were a lot fewer Crannogmen archers than before. _They're probably afraid to be so close to the fortress._

As his friend found the peace banner and rode towards the fortress, the column marched towards it too, getting ever nearer. Soon enough Brynden could almost make out the sentinels on the walls, but even more than that, he could make out the solid ground that lay after the fortress. 

So Bryden waited for his friend to return while seeing the dry land, a sight he'd never thought he'd miss so much, not even when he waited in boats during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

By the looks of things, his men too were looking forward to a night's rest when they wouldn't have to sleep eight men in one tent for lack of space. Not that Brynden could blame them. Soon enough his old friend returned.

"The commander of the garrison gave us permission to pass. He regretfully inform you that only the nobles will be able to sleep in the towers tonight if you want to, that is, while the rest will have to sleep on the flat ground outside. He also warned us of the Crannogmen. As if they didn't give us enough warning already," he said, prompting a series of chuckles at the jape from the men around him.

The mood was certainly good as the army marched towards the fortress, even more so due to the fact that despite the warnings, the arrow pelting seemed to have stopped. Soon the fortress came fully into view as by now Brynden was less than a quarter of a mile from it. _Stop it, you're counting the yards till you get dry land again now for fuck's sake_ , he told himself sternly.

However, as the towers came closer and closer into view, he realized that something was wrong. And yet he couldn't tell what it was. Carefully he focused on what he could see and what he could hear. There was nothing there. Normally that would have alarmed Brynden, but he knew that in the neck that was the normal. And then, that same feeling came again, and the hairs on the back of his spine rose as he heard it. The sound of bows being drawn. It was a minuscule sound, and yet it was there all the same, after all, Brynden knew the sound all too well.

 _Shit, the Crannogman are still here!_ he realized. _We need to get into that bloody fortress, now!_ Alas, he knew there was little he could do and he could not spurn the men forward, less the Crannogmen attack at that very instant. _The closer we are to the gatehouse when they attack, the better_. So. steeling himself for the arrow fire that was to come, he kept the same pace, his horse walking at the same time as the men towards the fortress. It wasn't long now, the archers themselves were now just one hundred yards from the fortress. _Come on now, let us be rid of this hells hole_ , he thought to himself a little impatiently.

However, as the Blackwood archers were now at eye contact distance from the standing gatehouse, Brynden noticed that the gates were still closed. _What the hell is..._ but he didn't have time to finish that thought as suddenly, over the chattering of the army and the eerie silence of the swamp a loud voice was heard from the tower.

"LOOSE!'' The voice shouted and at the command a hail of arrows was released from the three towers, the arrows rising into the sky before coming down, right on the Blackwood archers. Suddenly screams filled the air, as the archers were felled down by the unexpected arrows. For a moment Brynden just stood there, stunned.

"LOOSE!" another voice, this time from the swamp was heard, and Brynden heard a whistling of another volley being released, this time from both sides of the column where he stood. He heard as the arrows flew and as they made impact the screams were heard again as men were felled on both sides like wheat under a scythe. He even saw some of the arrows, the ones that flew high, some moving from left to right and other from right to left, all horizontally. Finally, Brynden pulled himself together, as another deadly volley was released from the towers, flying high in the sky before felling even more of their archers.

"IT'S A TRAP!!!" he finally shouted as even more arrows were released from the woods further out in the swamp, a cacophony of screaming awaiting them. _The Cranogmen and whoever the fuck it is that's actually holding the tower, are working together,_ he realized far too late as he came out of his state of shock. As he quickly assessed the damage around him, it was clear that the Crannogmen had been holding back till now. All around him, the column was in tatters, the Tully levies surrounding him being in particular well and truly fucked. _Fuck! Come on, pull yourself together man!_

"NORBERT!!!" he shouted for his friend as he heard even more arrows being loosed as their forces, accompanied as always by the screams of those they wounded, a melody of death that even to this day shook Brynden every time he heard it.

"Yes?" the slightly fearful voice of his friend was heard.

"Go to the rear, and order the column to stop! We cannot allow ourselves to get squished against the fortress."

"Aye, my lord!" the man replied turning his horse and riding hard towards the rear.

"Whent!!!" he shouted to the lord of Harrenhal.

"Yes, my lord?" Walter Whent replied

"Go to the front and have the archers suppress the central tower!" _with any luck, they'll last enough to allow the rest of us to do something_ , he didn't add.

"Vypern! Take the Mooton levies standing between us and the archers. Go into the left side of the swamp towards that leaning tower. Try to get on the dry land behind it and find some weak spots. I don't care what it takes, take that fucking tower!"

"Smallwood!" he then shouted towards the lord Theomar. “Take the Frey levies behind us and do the same for the right tower, the one that looks as if it's been bitten. Go through the swamp and try and get behind it!"

"At once, my lord!" the two men answered. Brynden could only hope he wasn't sending them to their deaths. It was risky and most of the men were going to die, he knew, but what other choice did he have? He needed to capture those fucking towers. Maybe with the archers suppressing the central one, and the men attacking the two others, maybe he could have a chance. However, before he could think of other strategies, another volley was loosed from the trees, and suddenly there was an arrow sticking out of his horse's neck.

Instantly, the beast collapsed, and Brynden barely had the time to jump from the saddle as the hulking body went to the ground, his foot barely avoiding being crushed between the horse and the ground. As he fell to the ground amidst the screams, he suddenly felt a sharp pain emanating from the ankle of his right foot. For a moment he was reeling, and he could hear the screams of the men suddenly panicking.

"The Blackfish has fallen!" one of them said.

"We've lost!!!" another cried in desperation as a few men began to move backwards.

"Flee!" another one shouted. The army was beginning to rout, he realized. Knowing he needed to be seen, he poured all his strength, and despite the screams of pain emanating from his ankle he managed to stand up, before bellowing with all the strength in his lungs.

"HOLD, YOUR CRAVENS!!!!" At that the fleeing men stopped, however it was clear from the men's faces that many still wavered, their morale horribly low.

"ARE YOU GOING TO FLEE FROM SOME TRICKSY FROG EATERS??? ARE YOU MEN OR ARE YOU WOMEN? STAND AND FIGHT, YOU CRAVENS, THEY ONLY HAVE ARROWS. HOOOLD!" he shouted, and he could see that some semblance of order was restored in his lines.

 _Thank the Gods_ , he thought to himself. He had seen the Trident, the way the loyalists had broken when Robert killed Rhaegar Targaryn; he knew how an army could rout when seeing it's leader dead, especially one as weary as his. The forced march through the Riverlands and the hell of the Neck had certainly taken its toll on the morale. He could only count his blessings that the army had not routed completely when he fell.

Not that they were in a much better position now, he thought gloomy as yet another volley of fire was loosed from the towers towards the archers. However, finally the elite Blackwood archers proved their mettle, as now with proper orders, despite the punishment, they finally managed to launch on organized volley at the central gatehouse. It didn't seem to do much damage, however when the gatehouse launched it's next volley, it came out several times more tame. Good, finally we're getting somewhere. At the same time, further up ahead, Brynden could see that Vypern had successfully rallied the Mooton levies. At an order his men entered the swamp, and began marching towards the left tower.

If Brynden had thought what had come till then had been bad enough, that opinion was quickly changed as the Mooton men entered the swamp. Brynden thought he had seen the worst war had to offer on the muddy banks of the Trident and the all out melee that happened there. He had been wrong, he thought as the men made their way through the swamp. All attempts to maintain formation were gone in a second through the thick mud, tall grass and hidden puddles. Countless men feel into the hidden waters and the quicksand.

And yet they moved on. Soon, they reached the basalt blocks, all of them the sizes of small houses, most of them half submerged, no doubt relics from the fortress's times of glory. Any semblance of a formation was broken then by the basalt blocks, as the men had to make their way between them through the thick mud, moving at a snail's pace in unorganized columns, trying to reach the tower and the dry land behind it. 

And all the while the arrows poured from the sides and the tower. Relentless, the arrow hale seemed to reach a crescendo now that the towers were firing from up close. For every step the men took, tens if not hundreds were felled, falling into the mud, quickly trampled by the previous poor sod, making progress even harder in the sea of mud, bogs and bodies.

On the right, Smallwood's Frey levies were similarly afflicted as they reached the position on the right of Blackfish. Their going seemed easier without them having reached the blocks, and there was still some semblance of a formation, and yet the men were still going through hell, a muddy hell filled with arrows. On and on they trudged through, eventually reaching the basalt rocks as well, which again, forced them to break formation, as the arrow fire intensified, the archers from the tower having an even better shot. Now both the side towers were firing seemingly everything they had, adding blood and bodies to the sea of mud below. The only tower somewhat hold back was the central gatehouse, still being effectively suppressed by the Blackwood archers.

Of the six hundred archers he had departed with, he doubted if two hundred remained, and yet even reduced as such they put up a fight and pinned the gatehouse archers in place. And yet they did nothing to stop the bloodshed on the flanks, as the towers and the woods archers, that no longer even bothered with Brynden's contingent, instead focusing on the flanks, were tearing his flanks to shreds.

The left under Lucias Vypern was now almost at the tower, and yet, the it's speed was so small now that Brynden couldn't tell if they were ever going to reach their destination. And in that moment, yet another volley of arrows was launched, this time at point blank range towards the Vypern banner. 

The result was instant, with the banner falling and the lord of Fairmarket probably dying, as the few remaining troops lost any semblance of cohesion and broke, trying to flee towards the road. However, fleeing was impossible in the thick bogs, so instead all they could do was slog their way in desperation towards the ground. However in doing so, losing all cohesion, they made themselves an easy target to the arrows, especially as the Gatehouse archers shifted direction to the fleeing men, adding even more bodies to the swamp.

Back on the right, Brynden saw, the attack had faltered similarly, and upon seeing the fate of their brethren on the left, the men there too broke and tried to get to the relative safety of their lines. Being closer to the causeway, Brynden judged some of them could even stand a chance.

This is a fucking death trap, he thought to himself, trying his best to ignore the pain in his ankle. Quickly, he tried to think of what he could do. He had nothing even vaguely resembling siege equipment, not even a long log to be used as a battering ram was available. And we can't bypass those towers. He knew that right then his only hope was to throw enough bodies to maybe have the enemies run out of arrows. 

_Can I risk it?_ He knew he could not. This had been a very organized affair and well prepared affair, as the Crannogmen focus till now on the archers showed. _I cannot gamble that they don't have enough arrows._ So far only his vanguard had truly engaged the enemy, and he had several times as many men still in the center and the rear, but he couldn't risk them.

 _The only way is for a retreat. It's better, as long as they harry us, they're still expanding arrows for men, which is my only tactic for now, and if we regroup we might just come up with something to win._ And yet the idea of retreating sat bad with Brynden. The entire goal of the expedition had been to reach North, reinforce Cat and help her deal with the would be usurpers. And yet by retreating he was actively moving away from said purpose. _And yet, what else can I do?_

"Sound the horn, we're retreating." he told his newest squire acquired after the rebellion, a well built Ryger boy.

"But my lord..." the boy stuttered, looking nervously at the retreating men in the swamps, still being pinned down by the constant arrow barrage. He knew what he wasn't saying, that if the main army retreated down the causeway, all those men were going to die. And yet he couldn't sacrifice even more men of his main army. The sooner he got out of the horror, the better.

"NOW!!!" he roared, not bothering to explain himself.

"Yes, my lord," the boy replied meekly before putting the horn to his mouth and signaling the retreat.

It was a testament to the men under his command that even as his own contingent of Tully levies slowly pulled back, nobody tried to break rank. Instead, they slowly made their back back up the causeway, the entire column moving before them, in a still somewhat organized fashion. Behind them, only the surviving Blackwood archers remained, still frying a few suppressing volleys at the gatehouse tower as the army made its way back from where it came. 

Of what used to be the vanguard only his own Tully levies and what remained of the Blackwood archers as well a few ragged survivors of the two continents he had sent to the flanks remained.

As the army slowly made its way back, and Moat Cailin's moss covered towers begun to fade from view, the arrow barrage too was reduced from the hale that it had been outside Moat Cailin, to the small steady trickle that had accompanied them ever since they had entered the eighth hell. It was almost business as usual, if not for the weary and almost wavering faces of the men as Brynden and his retinue made their way towards the center of the column on foot, his pain be damned. By now, judging from the pain, Brynden was almost sure he had sprained his ankle. 

_Fuck me, I guess this means no fighting for a while,_ he thought to himself as he took one painful step after another, trying his best to ignore the pain. His arms still worked and he could probably defend himself well, but with his footwork constricted, he knew he'd be a sitting duck for any half skilled swordsman.

So instead, he tried to think of some plan to breach the fortress. Having his soldiers eat arrows wasn't going to cut it, he knew. His best chance was to try and get some siege equipment and take the gatehouse, he thought. And yet that presented a problem of it's own. _Where on Earth am I going to get any siege equipment?_ Anything too big would be impossible to move down the causeway, so that only really left the ladders and battering rams as an option. 

Between the two, he knew his best chance would be a simple heavy log to act as a battering ram. Easy to move, and with enough people rushing the gates, it could be enough to breach. And yet, where could he get a battering ram? Sending anyone into the swampy forests to get trees was a suicide mission.

The only option remaining seemed to be to pull out of the Neck entirely. _And what kind of losses would that entail?_ Nobody had bothered with a count, but if he was any judge, he could guess that with the constant pelting and the attack on the fortress he had already lost almost a third of his forces. _How many more will I lose if I pull back and return before finally assaulting the fortress one more time?_

And yet, what else could he do? Going around by land was impossible, while by sea, not only did the Riverlands not have the ships, but the Narrow Sea was controlled by the Targaryens, while the Sunset Sea had only rebel lords on it's coast in the North, at least if the Dustin and Ryswell banners on Moat Cailin weren't a lie.

He was brought out of his useless plans however as the column suddenly stopped in front of him.

"What happened?" the voice of one soldier was heard as they too were forced to stop.

"Did someone order us to stop?" another one asked.

"No." Brynden said firmly, trying to silence his men.

"Are we under attack?" another soldier asked. That was a good question actually, but given that the only sounds of battle were just the occasional Crannogmen arrows they had come to expect, it certainly didn't seem like it.

"It doesn't seem like it, be quiet!" he said a bit more loudly and at that the men finally complied. However the silence revealed nothing, as no new sounds were heard, only the whistling of arrows, or if Brynden tried really hard, the arching of bows.

Still he was a little bit glad for this pause, if confused and concerned, as for once, his ankle didn't throb with pain quite as hard. Gently, he made sure to lean on his left foot as he waited for any news. By then it was past midday already, the sun and the heat beyond scorching, adding even more to the general fatigue the men seemed to endure. Yes, this is definitely a good pause, he thought. Finally, the 'news' came in the form of his friend, still ahorse.

"Norbert, what's happening?" he asked, seeing the angry look on his face.

"There's a fucking pike wall down the road, that's what's happening." the man replied, just as angry as Brynden.

"Fuck!" he couldn't help but say, even though it helped not at all. "Come, let's go have a look at it." he said commandingly, his men starting to move with him.

"Don't you want a horse?" his friend asked him.

"Nah, fuckers aren't pelting us, might as well enjoy this brief pause in the action as we walk." he said, a little gloomy as he and the men made their way through the ranks, one painful step at a time. In this moment, Bryden could only be happy that he had intentionally ordered the men to only walk five abreast, leaving enough space for him and his men to pass through the column..

Slowly they made their way through the column, the sun shining on them all the while, slowly cooking them even more. _As if the Crannogmen weren't enough_ , he thought darkly. Said Crannogmen were still idly peppering away at his forces. No doubt waiting for our break out attempt so they can launch the arrow storm again.

Eventually they made their way to the front of the column. The very front of the column was made up of the Whent foot levies, while behind them were the horses, few that they remained. After the archers, the horses had been the cranogmen's favorite targets during the march due to their lack of armor making them incredibly vulnerable to the poisoned darts. So were as before he had had over a thousand cavalry, now he only had a few hundred. Not for the first time that day he felt the need to curse the Crannogmen to all the Seven Hells.

Finally, reaching the end of the Whent levies, Brynden saw an image that renewed his desire for profanity. A few hundred yards from where the column ended, lay a hedgehog of pikes, eager and waiting for them to kill themselves on it. Brynden wasn't sure from the distance, but by his eyes, the pike wall was over a dozen men wide, and many dozens of men deep. The pike formation took up most of the road, and even extended quite a bit into the swamp.

 _In other words, if we want to flank the fuckers we're going to have to enter the swamp._ Looking more closely, he noticed the swamp was unusually dry on the places where the pikemen stood, but making up for it on the advance. So that they can sit with the pikes and we will get even more bogged up trying to flank them. It was either that or charge the pike wall head on.

He already knew how this would go. The moment they tried to break the pike wall the arrows would start pouring again, the thousand hammers against the pike anvil. But how could he fight it? Brynden started pacing for a bit, before the pain in his ankle made him think better of it, instead opting to remain standing where he was.

He could try ordering a head on charge. However, with the enemy using pikes, and the arrows pouring on both sides, he knew he would have little chance of breaking through, and even if he did, it would be over the bodies of half his army, that was if he was very lucky.

Alternatively he could try and flank the pike formation through the swamps. They were hard and slow and grueling to navigate, but not impossible, and given the clear numerical edge he had, he could eventually outflank and overwhelm the pikes. Except the arrows would make sure any flanking force would get shredded as it tried to make its way through the mud.

He knew the arrows were the problem. Without them his numerical superiority would win out eventually, even in the terrain from hell. There were under a thousand pikemen, and even in terrain liek the Neck that kind of numerical difference couldn't be overcome. _Except if you have the archers from hell that can fire with impudence, without you being able to even touch them,_ he thought to himself. However he then had an idea. A risky gambit to be sure, however one that could clinch the victory. _What else do I have? Better a costly gambit with a chance of success as opposed to a plan that guarantees death._

He also noticed something peculiar. The arrows seemed to come exclusively from the right. _Either there's a trap on the left, or they're more massed on the right._ He didn't know, but regardless, it added a level of opportunity he couldn't miss. If the arrows came exclusively from one side, his plan might have a higher chance of working. However could he be sure of whether or not they truly were massed on only one side. _The only way to know that is to let our troops attack alone at first and suck up the arrow fire,_ he knew. _Great, even more men sacrificed._

He wanted to curse himself and everyone else for entering into this fucking trap. He should have seen it. Of course, he wasn't a moron, he had sent scouts ahead a lot, but never too far ahead, else they wouldn't return. _And that was my mistake. I should have realized how bad things were the minute we entered the Neck. And yet what else could I have done? There is no other way into the North._ However, beating himself up over it wasn't going to do anything. Most of his men were still alive, and he needed to get them out alive.

"Norbert!" he called out.

"Yes, my lord?" his friend who was nearby answered immediately.

"Bring the Piper and Mallister levies from further up the back and have them position themselves here, no matter how tight it gets!" he ordered, hoping the crangomen wouldn't catch on to his plans.

For that, he couldn't move the cavalry, not yet, lest the Crannogmen figure out what was happening too soon and reign arrows on him again. So he waited in silence, as his friend went to get the necessary levies for his plan. Mercifully they didn't react, leaving them as they were, just peppering them on occasion with arrows. Here and there a man was struck and died, and yet nothing major happened. By now, judging from the sun it was the middle of the afternoon, and the heat was at it's worst. He could see all around him, the men were slightly exhausted from the heat and the marching, and the arrows.

 _Stay strong men, we need to overcome this._ He knew that if they won here, he would have to force march his army through the night. He couldn't risk getting pinned like this again. _By tomorrow evening they'll be barely standing,_ and that was if they were lucky and broke through cleanly. Still, there was nothing he could do. To sleep here was an invitation to get slaughtered. The nights had been bad enough coming here, with men sleeping eight or ten in a tent, and several of their comrades having to act as lookouts for the long camp stretching down the causeway. With an enemy force here, even a hellish sleeping arrangement such as that wouldn't work.

Eventually his friend returned, at the head of the levies, squeezing between the stationary soldiers in the column. Blackfish looked at them with a heavy heart, knowing the hell he would be sending towards, and from the weary looks on their faces it was clear they did too. _And yet what else can I do? We can either stay put and die, or fight and maybe live._

"Walter!" he said towards the lord of Harrenhal.

"Aye, my lord?" the man replied.

"You will take your levies and attack the pikemen head on."

"Yes, my lord." the man replied, a slight wavering in his voice. _No wonder, he's going to have to sacrifice his men to the pikes while the flanks move._

"Norbert! You will take the Mallister levies and charge through the marshes on the left. Hit the pikemen from the side. Keath! You will take the Piper levies and do the same on the right." he told his friend and the head of house Keath.

"Aye, my lord!" the both of them replied even more hesitantly than Whent. _They think they're going to their deaths. Hopefully that won't be the case._

"Good, now move it!" he ordered, and at his command, the three lords went to follow his orders. _Let it begin_ , he thought.

He waited in silence. For a while nothing happened as the men organized their forces, the same silence interrupted by the chattering of the men and the occasional arrows being all that was heard. However then, suddenly, the Whent levies began to move forward, leaving only Brynden and the Tully levies in their position as they advanced down the causeway towards the awaiting pikes. Still nothing happened.

Then, almost at the same time, the Mallister and the Piper levies, heading towards the left and the right respectively, began to move, entering the bog. For a moment nothing happened, as the now familiar snail's pace through the mud occurred, as the two forces began moving. And then, suddenly, the arrow storm begun again, as a volley was loosed on the Piper levies, on the right, killing countless. It was the same thing as the assault on the towers, the slow formations, slowly being felled by arrows, slowly, transforming the ground below into a sea of mud, blood and corpses.

But only on the right. On the left, the Mallister levies under Norbert were seemingly unaffected as they made their way through the swamps, keeping somewhat of a formation, despite struggling through the mud and swamps and the men falling in, rarely rising back up, as the mud and quicksands or beast kept them down, or if not, the boots of their comrades, walking over them, desperate to move forward.

"Roote!" he shouted for the lord of Lord Harroway's town.

"Yes, my lord!"

"Take the cavalry. All of it. Charge the swamp in the right. Kill everything you find!" _or rather kill as much as you can and hope it delays them enough._ He had no illusions. Whatever the outcome of the battle, he was sending those men to their deaths. but their deaths could just buy the lives of the rest of them. The man seemingly had an understanding of what was required of him, though he probably misunderstood the magnitude of it.

"I will, my lord." he said solemnly as he made his way towards the horses.

In the meantime, Brynden saw as the forces on the right had been completely ground to a halt, the front forces getting shredded and the rest bogged down in the quagmire of the bog mixed in with the bodies of the fallen. And yet on and on the arrows fell on them, adding more corpses to the sea. However, for that, the left and the center were almost untouched, as the center finally made contact with the pikes. It was a bloody affair, as the momentum of the rear lines forced the front ones into the pikes. 

Most men of the first two lines died, and yet those from the third and beyond managed to slip past the first pikes, only to be met by the second line, held by the second line of pikemen. It must have been at least ten lines of the Whent levies dead before the soldiers finally made melee contact with the pikemen. And yet, for every man that managed to get up close, two died on the pikes, not even getting near the pikemen themselves. That was the nature of breaking a pike formation, he knew, any head on attacks were costly. And yet it had to be done, to keep the formation engaged.

However, his attention was distracted, as with a shout, the cavalry charged. Most cavalry charges Brynden had seen were fast, thunderous teriffing things, the hoofs of the horse seemingly shaking the world itself. This wasn't it. Instead most of the horses were walking through the bogs, just trying not to sink and to reach the trees. Most of them would not he knew, not when suddenly, the arrow storm stopped, only to be redirected solely on the horses. Just as intended. This was when the battle would be lost or won, he knew, this brief window of time, gained by sacrificing his cavalry. The infantry would never be fast enough to pose a real threat to archers, not in the bog, the cavalry being the only one fast enough to be a threat that needed their full attention.

Seeing the arrow fire go away, the right quickly got their act together again and began pushing through the mud, sand and bogs again. Meanwhile, the left wasn't far from reaching the point where the center was dying to the pikes, ready to flank the pikemen. However, whoever was in command on the opposing side knew that too, as suddenly, from the rear, two pikemen contingents moved off the causeway and into the bogs, just like his own men, one contingent on each flank, and begun moving the intercept his own two detachments.

Vaguely he could hear as the cavalry, or what was left of it, finally reached the tree line and engaged whatever was beyond, as the screams of men and horses reached their peak. At the same time, on the left, the swamp pikemen engaged the Mallister levies. However, unlike in the center, they weren't in any formation, that was impossible, and the Mallister levies soon moved into the melee. A bloody and muddy melee soon ensued, all formation forgotten, as the men fought for their lives in the mud. Yet his men outnumbered theirs, the melee could only work in his favor, if only he had the time. Looking to his right, he saw the opposing Piper men and the pikemen, closing in on each other, while further back in the treeline, the screams could be heard still.

 _Good, as long as the screams are there the arrows won't fall on us._ On the left the melee reached a fever pitch, as the men fought for survival in the mud and blood, no formations, no tactics, just a grizzly fight till the end. For every man that fell, the ground became even harder to navigate, the corpses soon forming even more obstacles, limiting movement even more. And yet even so, he could see that the pikemen were slowly giving ground. Slowly and bloodily, but they were giving ground.

The battle was slowly turning in their favor, the center still holding as they assaulted the pike wall, while on the right, the Mallister levies engaged the pikemen, another brutal melee beginning in the swamps. Here with the losses the men had suffered, the fighting was more even, yet all the more bloody for it, as the pikemen abandoned their pikes, not able to use them out of formation, and picked whatever else they had, be it swords or sharpened stakes, engaging in the fight to the death, the two armies pressing each other, giving the men at the front no way to escape, except through the bloody melee

Meanwhile on the left, things were just as bloody, however the pikemen were slowly giving ground, crushed by the pressure of the Mallister men. If the left broke, Brynden knew, the center and then the right would follow soon after. Amidst all the screams as men died in the mud, he realized that the battle was turning in their favor. And then it hit him.

Screams. There were screams, coming from every direction, but they were all human screams. No horses. Slowly he turned to his right, and realized that from the forest there there were no more screams of horses or men, just silence. _The cavalry is gone_ , he suddenly realized. All around him, others realized that too, as the whole column was staring at the woods on the right. And then, out of the eerie silence, a scream was heard, breaking the spell, a battlecry, coming from the forest.

And then, without warning, hundreds of men appeared through the forest. No, not men, demons. They were too short to be men, too large to be dwarves. As they attacked, seemingly without getting bogged down in the swamps, Brynden felt a fear like never before. In their moss coverings, their charge seemed like something out of a nightmare, the children of the forest, bringing their wrath on the first men.

And then, before he even knew it, they were upon the men, all more terrified than even Brynden, as the cranogmen attacked with spear and tridents. The men were in no condition to receive such a charge, completely out of formation. And then a volley of arrows was released, and the men began to flee.

"HOLD RANK!!!!" he shouted "HOLD RANK, WE OUTNUMBER THEM!! HOL...." suddenly, an arrow was in his throat, and he could scream no longer as he fell towards the ground.

His mouth soon began to fill with blood, as all around him, the men broke and fled towards the left. And as he lay there dying, Brynden understood why the archers and the attacks had been solely from the right. _So the men can break towards the left and die there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my first ever real battle. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Also, shoutout to R1pYOu for helping me with this chapter and acting as my beta. Much appreciated!
> 
> Anyways, give your feedback in the comments about what you thought of the battle. Also, RIP Blackfish


	26. Jaime VI

Sunspear's main courtyard was sparsely populated when he reached it, much like the rest of Sunspear and the Shadow City. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. With father coming, everybody was sent towards towards the Boneway. And that's where I'll soon be going as soon as possible. He remembered telling Elia he'd do his best to avoid becoming a kinslayer, and yet it was in that direction he'd be going full speed ahead towards. But he knew he had made his choice when he departed Estermont, between Elia and his father.

Come to think about it, he had made his choice all the way back in the Sack. When Armory Lorch had told him he had orders from his father he could have just stepped aside. However if there was one choice he would never look back on it was that one, as he cut off the man's head instead.

He still didn't know what exactly was going on between Elia and him, but he knew that it was something, and that he would do whatever it took to protect her. As such he couldn't help but be at least bit a little disappointed at seeing that the only person that seemed to be waiting him as he rode his way into the courtyard was Areo Hotah, Prince Doran's captain of the guards, no sign of Elia what so ever.

At that moment he felt his heart clench just a little bit. _Gods be good, have I hurt her that bad?_ He knew he had taken the cowards way out of everything by agreeing to the Estermont mission. Rather than deal with whatever it was that they had, he had buggered off leaving Elia alone. He didn't want to think how bad she felt, he knew he felt plenty bad for it regardless. _And now it seems she doesn't even want to see me._

He had hoped that the letter might start to make things right between them, however from her absence here it was clear he still had a long way to go. Silently he promised himself to find her as soon as possible and try to make things right, before probably departing for the battlefield, however this time when he left, he intended to do it not to flee from her but to protect her, Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. However that would have to wait he quickly realized as the captain of the guards made his way towards him.

"Ser Jaime," the man said in his booming voice that seemed to reverberate from everywhere "Prince Doran has requested your presence." he stated simply and to the point, as usual.

"I see. And Ser Barristan?" he asked signaling with his head to the man to the right of him. As part of his quest for penetrance, besides being stripped of his Kingsguard position, the man had also been ordered to fight in every battle, which for now meant following Jaime around. Of course he never complained, eager to regain his spot on the Kignsgaurd. Jaime could almost pity the man, knowing it would never happen given what Elia intended to do, though in those moments he rather felt like pitying himself, knowing that meant Elia probably wanted him to become Lord of Casterly Rock.

"Ser Barristan, if you wouldn't mind, your old rooms are waiting for you" the captain of the guards said, making it seem like a command. Jaime was a little baffled by this, and the old knight ahd a sad look about him at the command. "Ser Jaime, if you would follow me." the man said as he turned and started walking, Jaime following him.

They made their way through the corridors of Sunspear in silence, like it always was with the Norvoshi. Jaime used to believe that his father was the most tight lipped person in the world, speaking only when strictly necessary. He had been wrong. Prince Doran's guard beat him by a lot in that particular contest, though at the very least, Areo Hotah didn't have the soul piercing glare his father had, making every long silence something akin to torture.

Adding to the silence was the fact that Sunspear was almost. Not even when they first arrived were there so few people in the hallways. And afterwards the place had truly come to live as Elia and Doran invited most of the nobility of Dorne here to inform them of their plans and to get them on board, something that Elia had done with ease, charming, negotiating and convincing her way into making them all accept their plans.

And what she had them accept was impressive. Given Jaehaerys's questionable birth and legitimacy, he had been convinced the Dornish lords would settle for nothing less than having Rhaenys as their monarch, which given the Dance would have alienate the rest of Westeros on the spot. Somehow, she had managed to talk them down to co rulership, something that could maybe work for the rest of Westeros, particularly seeing as according to Elia there was precedent for that in Aegon and his sister wives.

The thought of Elia and her negotiating however brought about a feeling of emptiness fit to match the deserted corridors of Sunspear. The nobles had all gone to war no doubt, and Elia didn't seem to want to see him, leaving the castle and Jaime himself empty. However he was was brought out of his thoughts as the tall Norvoshi and himself reached what Jaime now recognized as Doran's solar, the place where most of their plans had been made, be it Oberyn's insane plan or their schemes concerning Jon Arryn. He could only hope that Elia was inside.

However, as Areo Hotah opened the door for him and Jaime to pass through, he quickly realized that Elia wasn't there, just her brother, the Prince of Dorne. The man had the same unassuming look as always, plain and dour, with only the eyes betraying the intelligence beneath.

"Ah, Ser Jaime, please settle down," the Prince said as soon as Jaime entered the solar, pointing at a chair in front of the study.

"Thank you." he said a little hesitantly. Of all the Martells, Doran was the one he was most hesitant about. Oberyn had an easy going nature that made him easy to be around, even when he prodded you with jokes and barbs. Arianne was a slightly more put version of Rhaenys, so naturally that endeared her to Jaime, while Quentyn was too small to be much of anything. Finally Elia was... well Elia. Yet for all their recent past they still got along. Doran was the only one that made Jaime weary.

"Before we begin Ser Jaime, did you sent the letter we talked about?" the prince asked, and Jaime remembered he hadn't in fact mentioned it in his raven to Sunspear. However, what did he mean by 'before we begin'? _Begin what?_ However he knew the Prince of Sunspear well enough to know he'll be told when he needed to, and not earlier.

"I did." he said, avoiding any titles. While Elia and Oberyn had long since gotten on a first name basis with him, with Doran it was always 'Prince Doran' even if the prince never even had to state as much. Jaime knew it was required.

"And what was in it precisely?" the prince asked in his usual tone as plain and unassuming as grass in a field. Jaime wasn't fooled for one second.

"It was directed to all the Lords of the Stormlands. Announcing our capture of Greenstone and Aemon Esteromont, and then mocking Robert Baratheon for being unable to protect his bannermen or even his kin." It was all part of their plan. They all knew that on it's own Dorne couldn't win, therefore they needed to erode Baratheon support and gain allies.

"Good." the man said simply "And the other matter?"

"Anders Yronwood should be stuck having to deal with the logistics of raiding the Rainwood for a long time. I can't see him ever posing any problems. I cannot even see him becoming relevant again, unless we invade the Rainwood in full force. Now was that all?" he asked a little exasperated. He had no doubt the man's spies had already told him all about it, and he wanted to get this over and done with so he could seek out Elia.

"No. While you were away," the man said, accentuating those last words just a little bit, much to Jaime's shame "we received an envoy. He arrived yesterday actually. From the Golden Company." he said, letting that sit there.

Jaime was struck. The Golden Company numbered ten thousand men and was easily the most disciplined fighting force in the world. Somebody like that allying them was a game changer to say the least. Of course he was suspicious, the Golden Company traditionally supported the Blackfyres and had in fact been founded by them. But the Blackfyres were dead. The last Blackfyre through the male line had been Maelys the Monstrous, everybody knew that, and he had been killed by Ser Barristan. _That explains why he was sent away, as to not offend the Golden Company representative_ , he quickly realized. 

"In any case," the prince started, brining Jaime out of his thoughts "It'd best to have you here for the negotiations as a show of strength." Jaime couldn't argue with the logic, but that still didn't mean that he was fine with it.

"And Elia?" he couldn't help but ask. If anybody was doing any negotiating, it should have been her. That and he could finally see her again.

"She's gone away with the army." Prince Doran replied simply, much to Jaime's shock

"She did what?!"

"She's the Queen Regent, I can't order her around, and she does have a full contingent of guards. She's not going to fight in the battle Ser Jaime." the man said appeasibgly, and for the first time Jaime could hear some actual emotion in the man's voice in the form of unmistakable brotherly love.

"Did she at least take Ser Gerold with her?" he knew the relationship between the two was strained, but hopefully Elia had set aside that for her own protection. Ser Gerold might still not have fully recovered from his wounds, but he was a damn good fighter never the less, probably the fifth best in Dorne right now, after himself, Barristan, Oberyn and Areo Hotah, in that order, though he wasn't quite sure who was better between him and Barristan.

"No, Ser Gerold is still here guarding the children." _Well at least she didn't take the children with her._ There were many things Jaime wanted to say to Elia, but in that moment a good scolding was the first one.

"In that case I think it'd be best if Ser Barristan and I made our way there as soon as possible."

"And you will Ser Jaime, but first we need to deal with the envoy, a certain Harry Strickland." Strickland... Jaime knew the name, they had been a noble house exiled after the Blackfyre rebellion. Out of all his histories, the Blackfyre rebellion were the ones he knew best, as there weren't any stories more knightly then those for him to read as a child. _What a fool I was._

"Areo, please fetch the man." the prince told the tall Norvoshi who quickly left to wherever Strickland was being housed. "Ser Jaime, would you mind coming here to stand guard by my side?" the prince asked, to which Jaime quickly complied, standing up and assuming a guard position on the right of the prince.

There they stood for some time awaiting the Golden Company envoy, while Jaime sat and thought about Elia. On one side he understood her need to be there, but he still couldn't help but frown at that. She wasn't a fighter, she was a diplomat and a leader. She was far more useful here than on the battlefield. However there was little he could do now, maybe except trying to imitate Aunt Genna when they met and give her a good tongue lashing. Alas that would have to wait for Harry Strickland.

Finally after what Jaime thought was too much time, the door opened and in steeped Areo, followed by a middle aged portly man that could only be Harry Strickland. The man wore a simple enough armor, with several Golden Company markings on it in the form of a pile of golden skulls atop a spear.

"Prince Doran, it's an honor." the man said respectfully.

"Likewise, Lord Strickland. Please, have a seat." the prince said, pointing at the chair where Jaime himself had been sitting.

"Thank you, my prince." the man said as he took his seat "However I am merely a knight. I'm not a lord, not yet anyways." the man said, with all the subtlety of Robert Baratheon's warhammer.

"Well, I guess that remains to be seen, Ser Strickland." prince Doran replied diplomatically "In the meantime, would you care for any refreshments, anything to drink?"

"Thank you very much, but alas, I've already eaten and I think it best to keep a clear head for matters such as this, so no wine for now, thank you."

"Very well." Doran said neutrally "Now, it's my understanding that you wish to negotiate the Golden Company's support in this war."

"Yes, it is my prince. We are most interested in supporting your cause." the man replied jovially.

"Why though?" Prince Doran asked "I don't mean to harp on old grudges, but the Golden Company has always supported the Blackfyres." he continued, no doubt looking to test the man via his reply, as well as finding the answer to the very intriguing question.

"Indeed we have. And had a Blackfyre still lived we would be doing whatever it takes to see him on the Throne in the context of this civil war." the man replied bluntly "However, the Blackfyre line died with Maelys Blackfyre. And at the end of the day, a dragon is still a dragon, be it red or black. More than that, most of us just want to return home." the man answered honestly, and Jaime could sympathize with the thought. Whatever else he did miss Casterly Rock.

"I see." Doran replied cautiously, though a little bit more warmly than before "So what would you want in exchange for your services?"

"Well we'd naturally expect gold to be paid at our usual rates. Also, the Company has taken the liberty of hiring a fleet of sailsails to carry us from the Disputed Lands to Westeros. We will expect for you to pay for that should our deal come through."

"I think that can be arranged." Doran replied. Jaime knew that Dorne's coffers were filled to the brim still, even with Oberyn's trip to the Free Cities. It had been quite the surprise when he realized that Dorne was the third richest kingdom, after the Westerlands and the Reach. And while the costs associated with the Golden Company were no doubt going to be high, Jaime knew Doran would be able to afford it.

"Furthermore, once the fighting is concluded, each Golden Company member is to be given ten gold dragons each, each serjeant is to be given one hundred, each officer one thousand, each commander five thousand, and finally our Captain General is to be given ten thousand." he said. That was a lot, Jaime knew, however given the potential war spoils at the end, it wasn't astronomically high.

"That too I think can be arranged." Doran replied more cautiously.

"Finally, and more importantly, land. All officers are to become landed knights, while myself and several other Westerosi exiles such as Captain General Toyne, Peake, Mudd and Strong shall all receive lordships from out enemies. If one of the defeated lords holds any of our ancestral lands we will expect to receive it. All other soldiers, will be allowed to live in peace as our men at arms." and there was the crux of the matter. The Golden Company wanted to be landed. However again the terms were reasonable.

"As long as you do not demand lands from allied or neutral lords, and agree to lands within reason I think that can work." Doran finally said "Would that be all?"

"Yes and no. See, out spymaster has informed us that Tywin Lannsiter is on the march and that you mean to give him battle."

"I wasn't aware you had a spymaster." Jaime said a little surprised. Given the time it must have taken the man to reach here, they must have known about his father before them. _Whoever he is, he must be as good as Varys himself_ , he thought.

"It is true, most mercenary companies do not. However we do, and it is something most useful in gathering intelligence. At any rate, we know that Tywin Lannister is coming and you intend to give him battle. As such we would rather not be left alone fighting the wrath of Tywin Lannister where you to be defeated."

"I see. What do you propose in that case?" Doran asked, seemingly without losing composure at the cowardice

"Well, I would ask for your leave to visit the front and report what I see. Should you defeat or at least stall Tywin Lannister I think an agreement can be reached." the man said bluntly.

"Very well. The Queen Regent is there, so tomorrow you will depart with Ser Jaime over here. You will see the battle, and draw up the final details with the Queen Regent once there. Would that be to your liking?"

"Yes I think that would be perfect." the man replied with a smile.

"In that case I think that concludes our negotiations." the prince said, dismissing the man, who quickly bowed and left.

Once he had left, the prince turned towards Jaime.

"So, Ser Jaime what do you think?" he asked, in a tone he recognized. It was the same on his father used when he wanted to test him. Therefore he chose his answer carefully.

"That went well I think. Too well actually." he said carefully.

"I agree. Anything else?" The man said with a small approving nod.

"Yes, I think they're just trying to get here on Westerosi soil, so they can be in a position to better leverage terms. I can't see why else the terms would be so reasonable."

"Indeed. No doubt they will demand more once the war ends, but I think we'll deal with that then. Anyways, I think you should get ready, you're going to depart with the man tomorrow at first light. Also, take Ser Barrsitan with you." he said.

"Ser Barristan? Won't that be a potential issue?" he asked.

"Yes he will be, and I want you to watch out for the man's reaction to Ser Barristan. I think it will help us see just how honest he really is." the prince replied and Jaime wanted to sigh. _Always with the mind games..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are getting interesting aren't they. I wonder what the Golden Company is after?
> 
> Also, as you may have noticed, I'm currently, releasing one chapter every three days as opposed to every two days. Fret not, this is by no means permanent, I'm only doing it because the battle in Dorne is going to be at least 4 chapters, and I'm going to release all of them at the same time.


End file.
